Murphy's Law
by Sincerely Tiffany
Summary: AU: Everything that could possibly go wrong; did in fact, go wrong; leaving Erin betrayed, bruised and victimized. Follow the story of one woman's recovery as she struggles with the fallout of her attack.
1. Actus Reus

Anything that can go wrong will go wrong; it's Murphy's Law. It taps into one's tendency to dwell and focus on the negative while overlooking the positive. If something can go wrong in the worst moment possible; it will. Murphy's Law doesn't care about timing or inconvenience; its sole purpose is to make one's bad day seem like an eternity. Everyone is entitled to a bad day; it's how life works; no one's immune to the inevitable day that things don't go your way, but there's a line; a line that separates a bad day from the worst day of your life. Today is the worst day of her life.

The chilled dark liquor swirled within the glass secured by her hand. She's staring down at the brown beverage; the ice slowly melting. It's taking her forever to finish her sixth drink. Her hand is tightly grasped around the glass and if she were to squeeze any harder, it might break. She wants it to break. She wants it to shatter like her marriage just did hours ago. Erin has been sitting in the same barstool for the last three hours; crying tears that refused to stop flowing while drowning her sorrows in alcohol. She sat in the sheltered corner of the bar –her thoughts roaming to the past- her vision blurred from the tears welled inside her pupils.

"Your drink is going to get weak," an unfamiliar voice whispers against her ear.

She takes a look down at the melting ice, "I don't care."

Seconds float by and her cell phone rings. It's at least the thirtieth time her husband has called. It's at least the thirtieth time she sends it to voicemail. She wasn't up for conversing, for arguing and hearing him out. She didn't want to see him, talk to him or even be near him. Erin silently turns her cell phone off and throws it into her purse, "Care for a drink?" She offers to the man beside her. He nods and takes the empty seat to her right.

"Why's such a beautiful lady crying alone at a bar on a Friday night?"

Erin brings the alcohol to her lips –she takes a small sip- it's definitely getting weak, "…because of love," She cracks a fake smile, "love is one long sweet dream, and marriage is the alarm clock. We don't know each other," she turns to face the man, "but I have some pretty good advice for you; don't ever get married."

"The guy you're crying over is an idiot."

Her eyes continued to leak with the pain of her tears –she's heartbroken-, "I'm the idiot."

"Nah," the man shakes his head, scooting his barstool closer, "what man in their right mind would ruin this? What man would make you cry like this? He doesn't deserve your tears."

Her hand is shaking as the glass of alcohol is brought back towards her lips, "When your heart and your head are telling you different things and you're scared of both, what do you do?"

"I don't know."

"He…he broke my heart."

Her voice betrayed her. It broke. Fortunately, the music playing from a corner jukebox overshadowed her inconsolable and heartbroken cries. Her eyes were bloodshot red –shoulders trembling with each sob- she felt his hand rub against her lower back, "Want to talk about it? What did he do? What's on your mind?"

"Right now," her bottom lip quivers as she struggles to speak without crying, "I think it's a little dangerous to tell you what's on my mind, so I'm just going to keep it to myself."

"Here," he slides his drink in front of her, "you need this more than I do."

"No, I should be cutting myself off. I have work tomorrow."

The 27 year old rises to her feet –stumbles a bit- and walks towards the restroom. She feels his hands guiding her along the way; ensuring the patrons that she's alright and she won't fall over. He's guiding her through the dark hallway, "How long have you been married?"

"Five years," she spits the answer out in disdain, "I'm 27. I got married when I was 22. My dad told me to wait, but as the stubborn child that I am, I didn't. I married him." Her lips tremble again, "I married him! Why didn't I listen? Why did I marry him?"

"Whatever happened, it isn't your fault."

"Yes it is," she's holding onto him for support as they continue towards the restroom, "I work for the public defender's office. I'm a defense attorney. I work too much. He must have thought since he needed companionship he should look elsewhere for it."

"What does your husband do?"

"…he's a detective."

The young man remains outside of the bathroom as she walks in. There are two stalls –she peeks inside both- the bathroom is empty. Erin goes in front of the mirror, she looked horrible. Her eyes were no longer reddened with tears, but remained slightly swollen. She desperately wanted to continue to cry –to scream and throw things- but her eyes burned, her throat was dry, and what good would destroying the bathroom at Molly's do. It'll serve no purpose. Erin turned the faucet water on –splashed droplets around her face- turned the water off and walked out. He was still here. He was holding her purse and jacket, waiting for her.

"You didn't have to wait around for me."

"You shouldn't be alone right now," he extends her belongings out towards her; "We should get out of here. I can take your mind off your bastard husband."

"You don't even know him," her hand runs loosely through her brunette hair.

"I know he broke your heart. I know you're here crying because of him. Who was she?"

His question sparks the thoughts and emotions from earlier –from the lowest point she felt in her marriage- from the raw emotional discovery she faced earlier today.

"I never said-"

"Come on," he gives her a flirtatious wink, "I'm no idiot. Who was she?"

"…an old friend of his."

"You're hurt," he states the obvious but she nods anyway, "You're angry," she continues nodding as he cleverly points out her emotional state, "You want to get back at him. You want him to feel the way you're feeling." She nods once again, and he uses the moment to extend his hand, "Well come on then…let's get out of here."

Erin doesn't argue –she sets her hand in his- without another word, they're walking down the hallway. The bright lights of Mollys surround her and she ventures to the bar –swallows the rest of her weakened drink- and sends a wave to Herman.

"Wait Erin," the firefighter jogs around the bar, "You're definitely not okay to drive. Let me call you a taxi or an Uber."

"No thanks;" she softly peers over her shoulder, "I'm not going home."

The young man approaches her and takes a hold of her hand. Herman looks between the intertwined hands of a stranger and his friend, "Are you sure? I can call your dad to pick you up…or maybe Halst-"

"Don't," she immediately interrupts, "don't call him. Don't mention him. I don't need him…at all." The firefighter stood speechless; he looked over his shoulder at Gabriella and Stella; the two firefighters watching the exchange. Erin looked broken. The two wanted to walk around the bar and comfort the woman over whatever happened, but the moment they made an effort to move, she raised her hand to stop them, "I'm out of here."

"I don't know what's wrong, but I'm sure everything will get better." Herman attempts.

"I doubt it, but thank you anyway," She appreciated him for trying, but there was nothing he or anyone else could do to make her feel better. Without giving Herman a second glance, she led the man out of the door. She was a grown woman. She didn't need her dad or her husband getting involved. If her dad found out, he would do who knows what…this was her marriage; she wanted to figure things out without the added stress of her father's opinion.

The fresh air and the pouring rain sober her up…just a little. It's enough for her walk to be more balanced, less wobbly. She didn't drive here, she took a taxi, and now the stranger was taking the lead. He drove here; they're heading towards his car.

"I'm parked right over here," he points across the street. No cars were on the road. It's going to storm tonight and by this time everyone was at their destination for the night. They're jogging –trying to avoid being soaked from the pouring rain- he's digging through his pocket for his keys, when Erin abruptly stops jogging. She's watching him –he's looking for his car keys- he desperately wants to get her back to his place, it's been a long time for him.

Her body leans against the hood of the car, "I can't believe I'm about to do this." For the first time in hours, there's a partial smile on her face. It's small; barely noticeable, but it's there.

With the search for his keys long forgotten, his arm circles the petite woman's waist as he pulls her close. As their faces grow closer, their hearts begin to race. For him, this is nothing; another random hookup. For her, she'll be giving up a lot in this moment; nothing will be the same between her and her husband after this. She has to be willing. In less than a second, his lips are upon hers. The sexual tension is thick in the night air; his body pressed against hers and her body pressed between his and the car. They're embraced in the passion and the heat of the moment sexual frustration. The kiss isn't gentle; it's not sweet or filled with love. It's a heated, spur of the moment kiss filled with desperation, desire and lust. There's lip biting, ragged breathing and tangled tongues. Her lips are swelling with every second of their kiss that passes –she feels his hands tugging at the hem of her business skirt- he's trying to rise it above her waist.

"Wait," she swats his hands away. He's forced to release her business skirt; he's disappointed.

Erin moves from between him and his car; she's soaked by rain water, but she doesn't care. She's not thinking things through. She's acting out of emotion; not reason. She's acting out of anger and hurt…she's pissed. She's trying to get back at Jay in the worst way possible.

"I can't do this."

"What do you mean?" the guy's arms are in the air; he's confused.

Her breath hitches in her throat, "I'm sorry," she's backing away, "I can't do this!"

"How are you going to get home?" he shouts as she walks further and further away.

"I'll walk."

He adjusts his pants, "Let me give you a ride."

"I'm fine."

The 27 year old continues to walk; everything is going bad right now. Nothing is right. She's in a business suit –skirt and button up top- while walking in heels through the rainy streets of Chicago. Her husband is probably at their home banging his new girlfriend. Her parents are at their house completely oblivious to how screwed up their daughter's life is right now. She's a lonely drunk which is sad. Her winning streak at work is unfortunately decreasing while her workload is increasing. She got in trouble with her boss for the fifth time this week. She got into a really bad argument with her best friend, who is now not speaking to her. After catching her husband, she gave Burgess a call; requesting her company for the night. She was in much need of girl talk, however when Kim didn't answer, she felt forced to head out on her own. Her husband is having an affair with one of his ex-girlfriends. And now…as she looks down, her heel just broke. Nothing is right. Today is definitely not her day.

The hurt and pain erupts from within her like a volcano. She can't go home –she can't face him right now- her parents live a couple of blocks from her current location. The fresh air will do her some good and she would prefer to walk in the rain than call her husband or parents to come rescue her from her current predicament. She was fine. She continues to walk through the serene weather –no one outside to destroy the peaceful atmosphere- it may have been raining, but the sound of the pouring water soothes her tormented and uneasy mood. The rain falling upon her face blends with her tears. She can't distinguish between the raindrops running down her face and the teardrops falling down her cheeks.

As she walks, strands of her brunette hair slick against her face. She moves it away as the memories from hours before play through her mind. It's on loop. Every time she tries to think of something else –literally anything else- she's forced to remember. She walked into her house –down the hallway- and there they were in the living room; her standing in her underclothes with her lips pressed against her husband. He didn't even have the decency to chase after her after Erin –his own wife- stormed out. The rain is soaking her…and now she is beginning to regret her decision to walk. She wished she had let Herman call her a taxi.

"Ma'am," a voice calls out to her from behind. However, the second she turned on her heel to face him, her entire world went black. It was an immediate blackness; like someone cut the lights out. She's on a thin line between consciousness and unconsciousness.

The back of her head bumps against the cement as her body is dragged. Hands covered with dark gloves have her ankles gripped and he's pulling her as fast and quietly as he possible can. He's taking her to the alley -he doesn't know when someone may come outside- he has to be quick. Erin is groaning. A large laceration is on her forehead, the rain water causing the blood to run down her face. Her head hurts; she's in pain. She's groaning. She's confused. She never had a chance to register what happened…what's going on. Her purse is around her shoulder and is being dragged along with her. Erin's head is buzzing; her forehead bleeding; and low volume groans hum from her mouth. Did she trip and fall? Did she run into something? Her head continues to bump against the cement, and the second she registers the movement of her dragging body; her eyes flash open in a panic.

"Shush," he growls; his voice muffled by the thunder cracking the sky.

Erin is in a dark alley; she's kicking until her heels fall off her feet. The broken heel falls first, and she continues to yank her ankle free from his grip. She's in a long and dark alley; as he continues to yank, she throws open her purse, phone resting inside, and within seconds she pulls it out. It's off. She curses herself for turning it off inside the bar. The cell is smacked from her hand moments after it begins coming to life. She's forced to watch it fly and slide across the alleyway; landing in a puddle of water; fizzling out of life. Her eyes water at the distance between her and her now water-filled cell phone. It would have no use; it's broken. Lindsay turns to face her attacker; black ski mask covering most of his face, the dark sky shielding the rest. She's stuck. Her back is pressed against the ground, and his large body is hovering above hers. She doesn't know who he is, what he wanted or what he was about to do, but she knew that whatever it was; it wasn't good.

The two make eye contact, and before Erin could respond or move in any way, he attacks. His hands surround her neck; his body sitting upon her stomach and the hold around her neck tightens. She's kicking her feet, she's squirming beneath him. She's clawing at his gloved covered hands secured firmly around her neck. It's a fruitless effort because he simply just tightens up his grasp. Her vision is spotting, a puddle of water surrounding her head, reaching the lower portion of her ear. This is how it'll end; her bad day, this is how it'll end.

For a split second –a moment in time- his hand loosens. He removes one hand and keeps the other secured around her neck. The free hand begins roaming her body; searching for an opening in her wardrobe. She knows what he wants. She knows what he wants to do. And she couldn't let him. Her flickering eyes scan the perpetrator's eyes; they're dark and filled with rage. It's now or never. He has no intention of letting her go before taking what he wants. With that knowledge, she lifts her leg and knees him in the groin; for a split second he screams, he releases her throat, and she pushes him away. Her cell phone long forgotten, she's crawling away from her heels, but seconds afterwards, his hand surrounds her ankles. He's pissed, and without holding anything back, he pulls her further into the alley.

Her attacker takes his previous position; he's sitting upon her stomach, a switchblade pulled out and extended to hover inches above her neck, "You make a noise, I slit your threat." It scares her into silence. She's mute. She would have screamed if she knew for a fact that someone would hear it. However, the empty streets, the pouring rain and the loud thunder drowned any sound out. He reaches over and pulls her purse; dumping its contents beside her head, "You're definitely a fighter," he chuckles, looking through her belongings, "Let's see here," he opens her wallet and grins, "Erin Voight-Halstead," he takes her ID and pockets it, "Are you married? Or did your parents just decide to give you both of their last names?" He's not surprised when she doesn't answer. He stares down at her name, "Voight…any relation to Hank Voight?"

When she doesn't speak, he presses the switchblade harder against her neck; it draws blood, earning an answer from Erin, "Yes!"

"How are you related?"

"…he's my dad."

She hates herself for giving in so easily, but she wanted to survive; she wanted to make it out of here to see another day. This was a bad day but there's no way it could possibly be her last day. He pockets her ID and turns back to face the petite woman. She's utterly terrified; she has no idea how this night will end for her.

"Please…don't do-"

A fist makes a harsh connection with her face; cutting off her pleas. Hit after hit connects to her body; he's not mindful about where he's hitting as long as he's punching her. She tries to fight back, tries to squirm, but it only makes him hit her harder. She's stuck between a rock and a hard place. She doesn't know what to do. Aches vibrated throughout her body as her eyes remain closed –trying to mentally eject herself from the present-, "Please-" Her jaw ached in pain as another hit raps against her face, followed by another and another. He wanted her weak; he couldn't have her fighting back.

"The only reason I won't kill you," he's whispering –face hovering inches above hers- he's gently unbuttoning her blouse, "is because your Hank Voight's daughter. I don't have a death wish." Apparently he does because what he's doing to her is just as bad.

Erin is weak; too weak to fight back and too weak to respond. Blood and bruises surround her swollen face. The dirt and grime from the wet ground seep into her clothing and under her nails. She's unresponsive; and she is unable to form coherent thoughts. Small groans of pain emerged within her when the hitting stopped. He finally stopped beating her. His hands grip her wrists and he forcibly holds them above her head. Specks of blood surrounded her lips; she opens her mouth to speak but blood is staining her white teeth.

"It'll all be over soon," he whispered against her ear; pressing his mask covered lips against her cheek, "Be a good girl and close your eyes." Without argument, she does as he says. It pains her to listen but she needed for it all to be over. This was a bad day that ended in one of the worse ways possible. If he left her alive, it would be a bad day that she would never forget. A day that would always be embedded in her memory; the day her husband cheated on her, the day her best friend abandoned her and the day she was attacked and lost a portion of herself that she possibly would never get back. Everything that could go wrong, did; it's Murphy's Law.


	2. Shattered Hearts

**This AU story is set differently than the AU in Stalker.**

 **They're unrelated.  
**

 **Hope you guys enjoy it.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

 **Thanks :)**

Erin first feels her eyes open when gloved hands pry them apart. It's uncomfortable. A light is shining into her eyes; a small beam like a flashlight. She hears talking; orders shouted around her; she wants to speak, tell them to shut up because they're causing her head to ache more, but her mouth is dry to the point where she can't say anything. She feels conscious, but when the doctor's hand pulls away from her eyes; they close. His gloved hands were the only force keeping them open, not her physical control.

"What happened?" She recognizes that voice. She's heard it a few times at the Halsteads' yearly cookout. It's Dr. Rhodes, he's a trauma surgeon.

"We have a Jane Doe here," an unfamiliar voice answers. She's not a Jane Doe. She's not an unidentified female. Dr. Rhodes knows her. He'll know it's her; he'll know its Erin. She feels her opposite eye open, "No ID was found on or near her. A couple of teenagers called it in. They discovered her unconscious in an alley in downtown. Our fighter here," she feels the hand of the paramedic run through her hair, "received trauma to her head, neck and abdomen; there's possible internal bleeding and traces of sexual assault." The paramedics are called away seconds later; reporting to dispatch that they have just dropped off their pickup.

Her body is cold, the hair around her head soaked with water, and she feels exposed. Lying upon a moving gurney, she's sprawled out in her bra and panties; shivering uncontrollably. A doctor orders for more blankets to cover her body. She hears what's going on; the chaos surrounding her, but she can't be a part of it. She's unconscious. Her head is pounding with extremity and she feels her facial muscles tightening up. She's not even awake and she already is cursing the moment she has to look at herself in the mirror. She's wheeled through multiple hospital corridors; most likely heading towards the OR. There's something wrong with her; she's not waking up. Her body is burning and in pain; and she can't notify the doctors.

Dr. Will Halstead, her brother-in-law, calls out her name. He recognizes her –even with the bruising and swollen face- he knows it's her. She feels him take her hand, "This is Erin."

"How do you know?" Dr. Rhodes voice is rushed; she hears the OR doors pushed open.

Will lifts her hand, "…the ring," he holds up her left hand, "It was my mother's ring. Jay and I argued over who would get to inherit it after she passed, and our mother left it to the son who would get married first," she feels eyes lie upon her, "This is Erin. I'm sure."

"How positive are you?"

Will doubts himself. He doesn't want to make an inaccurate accusation. He needs to be sure. This is a Jane Doe; someone's daughter, wife and friend. He can't just guess on this. He digs into his white medical jacket, and pulls out his phone, "I think it's her. I think it's my sister-in-law, but I'm going to call my brother…see what's up?"

Will was positively sure that it was Erin Halstead about to be operated on; he just needed to speak to his brother in order to be 100% sure. He gave Dr. Rhodes a trustworthy nod; his relationship with the other doctor was a little shaky, but he trusted him; he knew he was good at his job; he would do everything in his power to save her. Otherwise, he wouldn't hear the end of it from Dr. Halstead. Will walked out of the OR room, pressing the phone against his ear; tapping his foot anxiously waiting for Jay to pick up, "Hello?"

"Will, can we talk later?" Jay's voice sounds panicked; he's freaking out about something, "I need to get a hold of Erin. She isn't answering any of my calls. We got into a big argument; she stormed out. She's been gone for hours…and I'm freaking out. I…I…let me call you back!"

"Do you know where she is?" Will stares at the closed OR doors.

Jay is pacing in his living room, "I have no idea."

"Okay, listen to me Jay," Will orders his brother –watching the procedure through the glass window- he desperately wants to scrub in and offer his help, "I need you to call Sergeant Voight and Camille to see if she's over there…if not, then call Burgess, and then if her location is still questionable, come to the hospital."

"Why? What's going-" Will hangs up on his brother.

He needed for Jay to follow orders and do as he was told. If it was Erin inside the operating room, he needed to explain things in person…not over the phone. Will drops his phone back into his lab coat, shoves through the OR doors and meets the eyes of Dr. Rhodes, "I need an update."

"There's internal bleeding," Dr. Rhodes is working quickly –his hands moving in all sorts of directions within her abdomen- he's looking between his patient and Dr. Halstead, "I'm going to handle this now and then send her up for a head CT scan."

"Can I help? I can scrub in; assist you."

"That wouldn't be a good idea," Dr. Rhodes is working diligently to stop the bleeding, "You're family…family can't work on family."

Will doesn't argue. He knows the rules and procedures; but it didn't hurt to offer assistance. He looks at the wrinkled hospital gown, "Her clothes…" he remembers the state she came in, "She was admitted into the hospital in a bra and undies."

"I'm aware," Dr. Rhodes doesn't want to rush his colleague; it's obvious. They both know the answer to why she came in that way and he continued to work as he waited for it to register on Will's face. He continues to work in the lower portion of her abdomen, "The paramedics informed me when they brought her in." His insinuation answered Will's wondering thoughts.

"Who called it in?"

Dr. Rhodes set the scalpel down, and lifted the next required medical instrument, "You're not a cop. The only reason you even want to know is because you think it's your sister-in-law." He hears the nurse update him on his patient's stats –she's doing good-, "Let me finish up here Dr. Halstead. We don't know if it's your sister-in-law, but we do know that it's my patient. She deserves my undivided attention right now."

Will gives the young woman another look; her ring is no longer on her finger, it's with the rest of her belongings. He nods at Dr. Rhodes and exits the OR. He has to busy himself or else he'll go crazy in wonder. Is that really Erin? Her face is swollen to the point it's beyond recognition. He walks down the hospital corridors, hands falling into his pockets; feeling his cell phone ringing. The moment he pulls it out, it goes straight to voicemail; he just missed the call. Dr. Halstead sees over ten missed calls from his brother, and he unlocks his phone in preparation to call him back, "Will!" He's startled. He turns around to see his brother approaching him –with Burgess, Ruzek, Hank and Camille Voight- following closely behind.

Erin's mother is wide eyed –her face flushed- "What's going on?"

"You haven't gotten into contact with her?" Will is looking at his brother –each face staring at him in confusion and worry- they needed answers.

"No, now tell me what the hell is going on?" Jay is freaking out –his hands are tugging at the short strands of his brunette hair-, "Is my wife here?"

Will's head nods slowly, "Yes."

The moment he answered his brother's question, all eyes turned to him; rage building in her father's face, concern clearly evident on her mother's, and the looks of Burgess and Ruzek are a combination between the two. Jay inhaled a large breath –struggling to keep himself calm-, he approaches his brother tensely, "What happened to her?" He's afraid to hear the answer, but he knows that he'll drive himself crazy if he doesn't know.

"Last I checked Dr. Rhodes was treating her abdominal region; she had internal bleeding. She should be upstairs now getting a CT scan. There was blunt force trauma to her face, neck and abdomen and the trauma to her face looks severe enough that it raised a few concerns. The CT scan will just let us know whether the trauma reached her brain."

"I don't understand," Camille is clenching tightly onto the arm of her husband, "Was she in a car accident or something? What happened to her Will?"

"…maybe we should wait until Dr. Rhodes-"

"My wife asked you a question Dr. Halstead." Voight steps towards the doctor, temporarily leaving his wife's side, "We're not some random strangers. We're her parents. What happened to her? We're going to find out anyway. Tell me…what happened to my daughter?"

Against Will's better judgment, he gives in. He nods his head towards the waiting room –he needs a cup of coffee to give him the energy to handle Erin's parents and his own brother- he couldn't drink alcohol on the job, but coffee was a nice and close second.

"Alright, stop stalling Halstead! What the hell happened to my daughter?"

"Some teenagers found her in an alley and called it in."

"Found her in an alley?" Camille repeats in order to make sure she heard correctly.

"When she arrived here, she was covered in blood and dirt; dressed in only her underwear."

Camille immediately looks at her husband; her heart racing, she had to take a seat in one of the empty, uncomfortable waiting room chairs. Her hands cover her face as she struggles to wake up from this nightmare; this obviously didn't happen; she's just asleep and having the worst dream. None of them are dumb, they know the implication Will is leading. He doesn't want to say it and therefore he talks around it, but they know. They picked up on exactly what he was putting down. The older woman felt someone take a seat next to her; she doesn't bother to drop her hands to see who, she honestly didn't care.

"Where were you?"

"Excuse me," Jay turned to face his father-in-law

"Where in the hell were you Halstead?" Voight argues, shoving the younger man back, "Where the hell were you while my daughter was getting attacked?!"

Camille's hands drop from her face, "Hank-"

"Jay, I am asking you a question."

"I was at home," he admitted guiltily –he already felt bad- nothing could make him feel worse, "We had an argument and she stormed out. I didn't chase her because I figured she was just getting some air. When I realized that she left, I called her. I tried to find her!"

"You should have called me Halstead," Voight's temperament eased; he's calming himself.

"Sir, with all due respect, Erin and I are married."

Hank pushed on; he didn't see the point in Halstead's statement, "And?"

"…and we usually keep everyone out of our personal lives."

"I'm not everyone. I'm her father."

"And I'm her husband; we have plenty of arguments that are between us…and only us."

"Not to the extent of having her run out," Voight's tone is slowly losing its patience; he's trying to remain calm; be there for his daughter's husband, but he irrationally blamed him.

"I didn't tell you because it was none of your business."

"Watch yourself Halstead."

"Hey," Camille rose to her feet; inserting herself between the two feuding men, "we're all a little sleep deprived, upset considering the circumstances and pissed off right now…but let's calm ourselves. Right now, we're focused on Erin and her getting better; this little spat between you two isn't important; Erin is. This argument you two are having is complete and utter bullshit…and you both know it!" She turns to face her husband, "So what if they were arguing…we argue all the goddamn time and you never reported to my father every time we had a spat," she abruptly turns to face Jay, "and you…just, ignore my husband, gosh stop letting him get to you," She's looking back and forth between her husband and son-in-law, "We just found out Erin was attacked," her voice stresses the last word, "raped," it breaks; her voice is no longer stern and high-pitched, "so yes we're upset and with good reason, but I am NOT going to spend the next couple of hours in this hospital with you two bitching it out!"

"Mrs. Voight," she turns at the mention of her married name.

"Dr. Rhodes, how is she?"

"Before I go into detail; I just want to let you all know that she's alive and is expected to make a full recovery," he eased the mind of the worried mother and the angered father; Jay began pacing, awaiting the details on his wife, "

"During the physical and sexual assault, Erin received an extensive amount of trauma; it's going to be a long recovery ahead of her, both physically and mentally. During her CT scan we saw no swelling or bleeding in the brain, which is great."

"Is she awake?" Camille was desperate to run back and see her daughter; she wouldn't calm down until she saw for herself that Erin was okay.

Dr. Rhodes nods to answer the impatient mother's question, "She is awake. We gave her medication for the pain…and we want to observe her for the night; just to make sure there's nothing we haven't missed."

"What about," Voight approaches the doctor; avoiding the gaze of his wife, "you know, side effects of rape…what about those?" He didn't know the best way to phrase it; there really isn't one. There's no way to beat around the bush or lighten the question because it's such a sensitive and dark topic; it's a heinous act done by horrible people.

"We drew blood to test for any signs of STDs; and we're also running a pregnancy test in order to distinguish a timeline; basically if she's currently pregnant right now then she was pregnant before the attack" Dr. Rhodes' face is stoic –completely still- he's done this plenty of times, he should be used to it, but he's not, he has to put on an indifferent mask, "If she's not pregnant, we'll give her the morning after pill; and then in two weeks, we'll check again for pregnancy. I'll rush the results and try to get them to you in a few hours. How about we focus on the positive," he sees the frown on Camille's face and notices Burgess pacing circles around the waiting room, "Erin is awake and I bet she wants to see you all. I'll take you to her room."

A smile breaks through Camille's face; she's relieved to see her daughter. She needs to see her; hold her and do her own diagnosis. A mother definitely knows best, and she in fact knows her daughter. Regardless of what Erin may say, she can see through it; she raised the girl, she knows her almost as much as she knows herself. The anxious mother took a hold of her husband's hand; most people weren't awarded the sight of a domestic Voight. He was always this tough as nails, hard ass sergeant at District 21; people rarely ever saw anything else.

"We have to focus on the positive Hank," Camille's hands surround her husband's; she brings it up to her lips and pecks it, "she's alive…that's good. Let's remember that."

"Give me the truth," Hank turns to face both Dr. Halstead and Dr. Rhodes, "How bad does she look? How bad was she hurt?"

"…maybe you should go see for yourself."

"Will don't patronize me," Hank's voice growls in warning; his daughter was in the hospital and his tolerance for bullshit was in the negatives, "I need to be prepared for what I'm going to walk in on. Now…how bad does she look?"

"The only reason I knew it was her that was wheeled in was because of her wedding ring."

Camille feels her husband's hand leave hers; she glances down at their disconnected limbs. He takes a step back; shaking his head, "I can't go in there Cam." His hand runs over his face.

"Hank-" she sighs.

"I can't see her like that."

"She's your daughter."

"If I see her like that," His voice pleads with his wife; his hands grasp her upper arms and he forces eye contact between the two, "I'm going to kill someone."

"I won't let you." Her hands press against his chest; her eyes pleading with his.

"You won't have a choice."

She shakes her head, "Hank-"

"I'm going to talk with her Dr. Rhodes; see what lies ahead for her recovery."

"Please…afterwards, come in."

Hank considers it; he doesn't want to scare Erin. He can't control his emotions; if he were to see her, he would turn into a person that his daughter hasn't seen in a very long time. He would turn into the person that he's paid to arrest; he would be a criminal and the sad part about it is he would be perfectly okay with it if it meant he got to see the bastard suffer for this.

"Burgess and Halstead are going in with you." He sends his son-in-law a nod; he wouldn't apologize, but the nodding of his head was enough.

"…she's going to want to see her dad."

"Cam-"

"I shouldn't have to beg you." Her voice raises; she takes a step back and crosses her arms; her eyes glaring daggers into his soul. She could be terrifying sometimes.

"You're right." He doesn't need anymore convincing; he was Erin's dad, sometimes you have to do what you don't want to do in order to be there for the people you love. He gives his wife a squeeze of the shoulder, "I'll be in there…after I finish talking with Rhodes."

Camille closes the gap between she and her husband; her head resting upon his chest and he sends a comforting peck to her cheek. She's ready. She's ready. She has to mentally remind herself that she can handle this. She is capable of going into that room –without her husband- and taking care of her daughter –without her husband- she has this. Camille gives Voight a lingering kiss on the lips –a tear drop running down her face- surprising her, she didn't feel it coming. She pulls away; that was enough stalling, she needed to see her daughter.

"Come on, let's go."

"You can walk too and we'll talk outside of her hospital room," Dr. Rhodes informs Voight, placing the clipboard between his side and arm, "She's just this way…"

"…maybe I shouldn't go in there." It's Jay who is hesitant this time.

"Why Jay? You're her husband." Camille notices the uncertain look on his face; he knows something, something that she doesn't know. It most likely has something to do with the argument he already felt guilty for. It's neither the time nor place to discuss it, but she is not going to allow whatever it is to interfere with him seeing his wife, "You think because of the argument you two had, she doesn't want to see you?…that's probably the last thing on her mind. Couples argue all the time. Come on…let's go before I haul your ass inside."

Halstead doesn't put up an argument; she's right. The last thing on Erin's mind is their fight from earlier today. She probably forgot about it. He gathers himself; shoulders firm and head held high; he has to be strong for her. He can't break down; it wouldn't be fair. She deserves to breakdown and he owes it to her to support and reassure her every step of the way.

"Oh, sweetheart," he hears Camille sigh. He didn't even realize they had entered her room.

The door closes behind them; behind he, Ruzek, Camille and Burgess. The light is on bright; beaming atop of their heads. Erin doesn't speak; she doesn't respond to her mother. She's silent. Her eyes are unfocused and she's completely zoned out. Camille takes a step closer, "Erin, it's mom."

Erin remains quiet; she doesn't speak, but she does in fact move. Her head tilts and she stares down at her opened palms; her nails are dirty from the dirt and grime outside. She looks back up and flinches with every step her mother takes closer.

"Please talk to me…" Camille's wavering voice fills the silence in the room; it's heartbreaking to hear, "please…please say something."

"I have nothing to say." Erin finally speaks up to their relief.

"Anything you say is perfectly fine." The relieved mother grins for the first time; dimples piercing her cheeks, "Oh Erin," Camille takes in her daughter's appearance; a thick white bandage wrapped securely around Erin's forehead, bruises scattered along her arms, face and around her neck; there's dried blood on her swollen lip and the unbruised areas on her face are reddened; a dark shade of red.

"Did the doctors tell you what happened to me?"

Her mother nods, "Will did."

"I was walking to your house from Mollys' bar…alone." Her face scrunches together; she's trying not to cry; she desperately wants to, but she's forcing herself to withhold the tears.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"Thank you."

Camille rushes over to her side and hugs her, "Let me know if I'm hurting you." She squeezes her daughter. She had wanted to do this since the moment she walked into the hospital. She held out for as long as she possibly could. It was like an itch she couldn't scratch; she had to eventually give in.

Overlooking the dirt and grime embedded into her daughter's hair, she pecked her forehead once, twice, a third time and then a fourth. If she could stay like this forever, she would be content.

"Mom-"

"I'm sorry. I was just so scared! Jay called the house asking if I had seen you and I got so freaked out when we realized that no one had spoken to you in hours. You scared me kid!" She's speaking through her tears; it isn't the first time her mother has cried. Camille can cry over any and everything; a sunset, a romantic dinner, a kind gesture, a movie…a traumatic event. She wasn't afraid of allowing her emotions to show; Erin was the opposite…normally.

"That wasn't my intention," Erin's voice is dry. No emotion is evident on her face. She remains stoic –unbothered- indifferent to everything…at least for right now.

"I know it wasn't." Camille pulls away –mentally not wanting to- but knowing she needed to loosen up on her daughter, "Are you in any pain? How do you feel?" She looks into her daughter's eyes; her hands running along her side, she's examining the neck wound and she desperately wants to remove the bandage so she can take a look at the head injury herself. She decides against it the moment her daughter swats her away, "Mom, I've been picked and prodded enough today. Please don't."

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing!" Erin snaps; her mother had just arrived and she was already being overbearing and overprotective.

"I know. I'm sorry. Oops there I go again." Camille takes a look over her shoulder; Burgess and Halstead remain standing by the door, she turns back to her daughter –thinking of a way to change the conversation- she reaches behind Erin and grabs the edge of her pillow, "You look uncomfortable. Let me fluff up your pillows."

A straight, stoic expression remained implanted on her face. She was sitting up in the uncomfortable hospital bed –her mom fluffing the pillows behind her back- as she averted her eyes between Burgess and Halstead. She wanted to see which one of them would speak first; the so called friend who abandoned her in her time of need or the husband who betrayed her. Kim wiped her eyes, swallowed her nerves and rushed over to her best friend. She had been dying to do this the moment she walked into the room. Her arms swallowed Erin whole –being mindful of not applying too much pressure to her sore body- she nuzzled her face into the crook of her best friend's neck and sighed; appreciating her presence.

"This is not the time for friendship circles," Erin's voice is dry –humorless- she doesn't hug Burgess back, her arms remain limp against her sides. Kim gets the hint. She draws back.

"Are you okay?"

"What do you think?" Erin's eyes are glazed over –suppressing tears behind them- she stares forward, never once awarding Burgess with eye contact.

"Erin, I'm not mad at you anymore."

"Well, that's great." Erin sniffs, she feels her overbearing mother hold a tissue up against her nose –she snatches it out of her hand- she holds it up to her nose herself, "It only took me getting raped for you to forgive me…for doing nothing. I didn't do anything, but provide you with honesty. You asked me for my opinion!" Erin is getting worked up; she's shouting, "You wanted my honest opinion and I told you the truth, but you couldn't handle it! You didn't like what I had to say so you call me jealous, a pessimist, and nitpicky…you have some nerve!"

"…maybe you should leave," Camille speaks out, remaining by her daughter's side; taking the hold of her only child's hand.

"Erin, we're friends. Friends argue sometimes."

"You think I'm still your friend after what you did to me? Who made you so special?"

"I…I didn't do anything to you." Burgess is confused and it shows through her stutter.

Camille holds the paper cup of water up to her daughter's lip –extending the straw in Erin's direction- she nods, a silent order for her daughter to take a sip. Erin obliges; sips a few drops; allowing the cold liquid to loosen her sore throat. She noticed her husband standing near the door, completely quiet; serves him right. Erin turns back to Burgess –standing beside her bed- contemplating what to say next, "I don't want you here Kim." It pains Erin to say it, but it's what's needed to be said, "I'm tired of being 'the friend' you call only when you need something!" She had been through a lot tonight, and ending a friendship wasn't as hard as she imagined, "I'm tired of making time for people who don't make time for me and then having to pretend that it's okay when it's not! It's not okay!"

"I know, and I'm sorry!"

"It's too late for that!"

"…no it's not!"

"Look at me Kimberly!" Erin screams through her sore throat; she throws the covers off her body, "Look at me," her voice lowers as she stares down at her legs; red and bruised, "It's too late for your apologies! I was out there alone because of you! You're my best friend…and the one time I needed you; you weren't there," Camille reached to the ground and lifted the blanket; spreading it back over her daughter's legs, "You may not be mad at me anymore, but the feeling isn't mutual. Please get out."

"When I came to you earlier today, I didn't expect-"

"Is it possible for you to think of ANYONE else besides yourself for once in your life?" Erin interrupts her former friend's plea of understanding. She feels herself getting worked up.

Camille senses it too, "Alright, Kim, it's not a suggestion, it's an order. It's time for you to leave. Ruzek get her out of here," she glances back down at her daughter, "NOW."

Hank Voight may have been Adam's boss, but he did take orders from his sergeant's wife. She was not one to be messed with; the moment the order was given, he grabbed Burgess' arm and led his crying girlfriend out of the hospital room. Voight stood a few feet away discussing recovery plans for Erin with Dr. Rhodes and now Dr. Charles. A part of it was out of wanting to be prepared and the other part came from avoidance. He couldn't see his daughter like that –he wasn't ready.

Camille took a seat against the edge of her daughter's bed –Erin's hand resting in hers- her free hand running through her daughter's brunette hair. Her mother stared at her; looking pass the bruised cheeks, swollen bottom lip, and red marks embedded around her face; she didn't see any of that. It didn't make her love her any less. She was just grateful Erin was alive.

"Erin-" Jay finally speaks after moments of silence.

"I am not mad at you for breaking your promise," she rolls gently to her side; her back to her mother, and her face nuzzled into the white pillow, "I'm just mad at myself for believing you would when you said you wouldn't. You know, what's the purpose of vows when you're just going to break them?"

"I can explain." He wants to run to her side. He wants to hold her, kiss her and assure her that everything is going to be okay. He wants to find the guy; hurt him and lock him away. He's prepared to tackle each day of Erin's recovery and remain by her side as long as she needs him.

"You may not love me…but you sure as hell did a pretty good job pretending like you did."

It's like she doesn't hear a word he's saying. She blocked him out. She needed to focus on herself right now. With the comforting hand of her mother rubbing against her arm, she continues, "I wish I never met you," Erin's voice unfortunately cracks, "I want all the memories of us gone! I want you gone."

"It's not what you think Erin! It didn't mean anything!"

Erin looks at him; her eyes glaring daggers into his soul, "Get out Jay!"

"Babe-"

"I said get out!" She lifts her pillow and throws it across the room.

It was a painful action, but it was worth it. It got her point across. Camille arose from the bed and walked around the bed; she gripped her son-in-law's arm and dragged him out of the room.

"Camille, I can explain." Silent tears are rolling down Jay's face, "I just need her to listen."

Tears spark in her eyes, "She stormed out of her house because you cheated on her," her voice is weak as she gently closes the door behind them; "She was alone because you cheated on her?"

"It's not what you think."

"You cheated on my daughter?"

"It was a misunderstanding."

She shoves his shoulder, "DID YOU CHEAT ON MY DAUGHTER JAY?"

"I didn't initiate it, I-" his sentence cut off by the sharp slap of her hand.

Tears brim his mother-in-law's eyes. The hand that slapped him shaking; she's not that type of person. She doesn't hit people, but she couldn't control herself. She looks down at her hand, and when she looks up again she sees her husband –Dr. Charles and Dr. Rhodes completely forgotten- and his undivided attention is on Jay.

"Camille, I need to speak with Jay."

She sighs, "Hank-"

"Camille, go be with Erin right now. I need to talk to Halstead."

"I'm not finished talking with him," she turns to her husband; unaffected by the glare in his eyes.

"Cam, please," he's talking to his wife yet his eyes remain on Jay, "go be with Erin. She's alone. She needs her mother right now."

"She needs her father too."

"CAMILLE, please!"

She doesn't argue. They're all emotional right now; they're all speaking irrationally. It's late, today has been a long day, and they're all in desperate need of sleep. Camille gives her husband a firm nod; throws one last glare at Jay before walking into her daughter's hospital room. She sees her little girl crying; she's hurt and heartbroken. Camille closes the door behind her, and walks over, "Sweetie…"

"Why do people who are caught cheating say that it didn't mean anything? So, he broke my heart, destroyed everything we built…for nothing?"

"Oh Erin," Camille crawls into the small bed; cuddling her daughter closely, "he's an idiot."

"I'm the idiot," her head resting against her mother's chest –Camille's fingers caressing the bruised skin of her daughter- Erin is sniffing through her tears, "I blame him. I blame Burgess, but…I also blame myself."

"You are definitely not responsible."

"I shouldn't have been alone. I should have…I don't know I should have fought harder. I had options. I shouldn't have just given in. I could have done something."

"You did what you could," Camille presses a comforting kiss against her daughter's forehead, "I do not want you blaming yourself; you are not responsible, do you understand me?"

"He knows who I am. I'm not alive because I fought back. I'm alive because of dad."

"What does your father have to do with this?"

"I think he was going to kill me," Erin swallows through the pain of her sore throat, "but he found out my name, he has my ID, and he asked about my relation to Hank Voight. I'm only alive because he's scared of dad. I'm not alive for anything that I did."

Camille tightens her arms around Erin; pulls her in even more. She didn't think it would be possible to hug her daughter even tighter, but she does. She manages. She pecks her daughter's red forehead, closes her eyes and hums softly, "Mom…"

"Hmm," Camille's eyes remain close.

"Where's dad? I know he's here. He hasn't come in yet. Is he mad?"

"No," her mother's eyes immediately open, "yes, but not at you."

"This isn't good. Why did my day have to end like this?"

"You had no control over what happened. You're a victim in this," Camille assures her daughter.

"When I get hurt, it's like a domino effect. Things start falling down; one after the other. This isn't going to end well mom."

"How about we let your father take care of it? You need to focus on yourself right now."

"He's going to kill him, isn't he?"

"Erin-"

"Isn't he?"

"…depends on the he you're referring to."

Erin's raspy voice responds, "The man who did this to me."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure he will."

"Will you stop him?" Erin finds comfort and security in her mother's gentle hands rubbing up and down her back soothingly.

"…not a chance in hell," her mother once again begins to hum peacefully; filling the silence of the room with a serene and tranquil tone.

Camille Voight was similar to her husband in many aspects, but she was also different in her own way. She didn't like it when those she cared about were hurt; she saw red, she approved of a little justice, however, normally she didn't go along with her husband's idea of revenge, but when it came to 27 year old Erin Voight, she was definitely down for whatever. This was her daughter they're talking about; not some random pedestrian on the street. This wasn't some purse thief or car robber, this was a dangerous man who not only beat, but raped her daughter. This stone couldn't go unturned. She didn't know exactly what her husband was going to do the moment they caught the son of a bitch, but she knew that she wouldn't be getting involved. Hank had a way of ensuring criminals paid for their crimes...and right now, she was perfectly okay with that.


	3. Part of Me

**Alright, there is a difference between constructive criticism and just plain rude reviews. It's hard to distinguish the tone and mood of a reviewer through the computer; especially when they're reviewing under an anonymous name. Rude anonymous reviews will be deleted. I appreciate all of your support and reviews, but a part of the reason it used to take me so long to update a story (For Better or Worse, Off the Clock, CSI: Chicago) is because of those rude reviews. If you love the story, I love you guys and I hope you continue to read and enjoy it! If you don't, then you don't need to read it. I understand my writing style and the plot may not be for everyone, I'm human and I am not a bestselling author so I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors that I may overlook. Thanks!**

Voight waits for the door to close; he has no intention of speaking until he hears the click of the door completely shutting. The hall was empty, except for a few nurses floating around here and there. Dr. Rhodes left to tend to another patient; Dr. Charles temporarily went to his office to check the available times he could meet for sessions with Erin. He cocks his head in the direction of his son-in-law, "Really?" His eyes squint as he waits to hear what Jay has to say, "Really Halstead? You must have a death wish."

"I can explain."

"You stay the hell away from my family. If you come anywhere near my daughter, I will rip your throat out," Voight avows, shoving the younger man away from him, "You've lost what you never deserved; now I hope you suffer what you do. I trusted you; and I don't just trust anyone!" Hank shoves him back again; continually, "She trusted you! We all trusted you Halstead!" He shoves him back once more, "You asked me for her hand in marriage and I stupidly said yes… I truly thought you could be trusted; I was wrong. I actually thought you cared about her!"

Jay feels himself being shoved into the wall, "I do!" He's pleading with Voight to believe him. If he could just explain, Voight would understand; he wouldn't be as mad.

"No, you don't!" His father-in-law's pointer finger pierces into his shoulder. He's pissed.

"It was an accident!"

Voight backs away; he's in disbelief, "You accidentally slept with someone else?"

"We didn't sleep together! I would NEVER do that to Erin!"

Jay had to make himself perfectly clear. He didn't sleep with anyone; he would die before even thinking about doing something like that. The thought of them even thinking Jay was willing to jeopardize his marriage to the woman of his dreams was sickening; undeniably revolting. He would never in his life do anything to break her heart. It was a misunderstanding, just like he told Erin and Camille. This wasn't supposed to happen. He's not having some long, emotionally involved affair with his ex-girlfriend. Erin was a permanent part of him; he wouldn't risk losing her. She meant absolutely too much to him for him to do something like that. It's completely out of his character.

"Well then, what the hell did you do?" Voight takes a step back –temporarily giving Jay the benefit of the doubt- his arms are crossed, and whatever Jay decides to say next will determine Voight's next course of action.

"Erin walked in at the wrong time."

"She walked into her own house at the wrong time! Why is that? What did she see? What the hell were you doing Jay?"

"I was with Ally."

"Wait." Voight's arms uncross and drop, "What?"

"Sir, she stopped by the house completely drunk." Jay takes Voight's silence as a hint to continue, "It was pouring down raining, and she just popped up. I had dinner prepared and candles lit…for Erin, sir. She stumbled inside and I couldn't let her leave like that. I called her a taxi and when I went to tell her that the taxi will be at my house in a few minutes she was stripped down. She was crying about not being able to trust people, not being able to trust me and then she just kissed me...out of the freaking blue!"

"And that's when Erin walked in?"

"Yes, she walked in," Jay nods; blinking through his watery eyes, "She saw the dinner, the candles, Ally in her underclothes and her kissing me. She put the equation together and an affair was the result. She thought I was cheating on her."

"Did she say anything?"

Jay sniffs –blinking through his watery eyes- and nods his head, "She said a lot. She yelled, threw a few things and then stormed out."

Hank turns away –takes a seat in a random, empty chair in the hallway- his elbows resting on his thighs and his hands covering his face. His foot is tapping erratically and his body is rocking back and forth. This isn't good. It's bad…very, very bad.

"Sergeant," he hears Jay's hesitant voice; he's nervous to speak up because he didn't know the reaction he would get from his boss. He has never seen Hank like this.

"You had one job. You were given ONE task."

"How was I supposed to know that she was going to stop by?"

"It was yours and Dawson's idea to go undercover. I signed off on it!"

Jay takes a cautious step towards his boss, "Sir, this isn't your fault."

"I know," Voight drops his hands, "It's yours. Why didn't you go after her? Why did Ally feel comfortable enough to even come to your house in the first place? How could you just let this happen? How could you just let Erin walk out?"

"I thought she was getting fresh air! I didn't think she would leave! Her car was still parked outside! I assumed she went for a short walk around the neighborhood! I already blame myself. And I'm already beating myself up about it; I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I had no way of knowing something like this would happen!"

"Goddamn it Halstead!" Voight screams; his son-in-law flinches and takes a quick step back, "All of this could have been avoided." A small distance remains between the in-laws; Voight notices how nervous and panicked Halstead truly seemed. He shakes his head and waves him over, "It's not when I yell and scream that you should be scared. It's when I get very quiet and seem absolutely calm…then you should be terrified." Voight bites against his thumbnail; shaking his head at the entire situation, "This operation shouldn't have even happened! You were too close to the suspect! She was your ex-girlfriend; so of course she probably still had feelings for you! We should have had a contingency plan for this; for the possibility of her finding out where you lived and coming to your place. How did she even find out?"

"I don't know!"

"Well, you sure as hell need to find out!"

"I plan on doing so!"

"When?" Voight rises to his feet, "You aren't moving. You're still here."

"Erin comes first…always. I'm not going anywhere until I can explain everything to her. She already thinks I cheated, I can't have her thinking I abandoned her too."

Camille continues humming –a tune from Erin's youth- as her hand caresses the strands of her daughter's disheveled hair. Erin is still curled into her, finding comfort in her mother's warm embrace. A mother's comfort could never go wrong. No matter how old you are, you'll always need your mother, especially in times like this.

Camille briefly stops her humming to ask her daughter, "Are you thirsty?"

"No, it hurts when I swallow."

"Why is that?"

Erin hesitated –eyes peering into her mother's- her monotone voice whispers, "…because he strangled me…multiple times."

"Oh honey," Camille sits up; she feels absolutely horrible, "I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking! What is wrong with me? It's like I can't say anything right."

"Mom, you're fine. It's fine. It's okay."

"No, it's not okay."

"…it eventually will be."

"You don't have to be strong for me Erin; that's not how this works," her mother can see straight through her charade; her daughter is holding in all of her emotions and she's struggling to speak with confidence and reason. Camille pouts, "I'm here for you kid. Don't ever forget that. You don't need to hold back. If you want to scream, then scream. You want to throw stuff; do it. If you want to hit someone; I'll bring them to you. You want to commit a crime; tell me which one. Whatever it is, just let me know."

Erin inhales a sharp intake of breath –she releases it in spurts-, "Stop, please…just stop being so nice and comforting."

The older woman wiggles her arm from beneath her daughter. Erin's eyes still focused on her as she reaches towards the side table –gripping the paper cup- she takes a shallow sip of the warm water. She sets the cup back down, and curls back into her daughter's side, "Wow, I felt that stretch. I'm in my late forties and I'm getting old kid. My mind says I'm young, my body says I'm not." Her comment didn't spark a reaction out of her daughter; Erin remains quiet and somber and with good reason, but Camille refused to give up on trying to cheer her daughter up, "Don't hold this against me, but I cursed today." There's still no response, but Camille continues anyway, "I cursed multiple times actually…at both Jay and your father. You know I'm not that type of person, but it felt pretty good. I won't make a habit out of it, but I'll lighten up on reprimanding you when you do have a slip of the tongue. You get your mouth from your father, you know that? I've never been one for cursing." She nudges her daughter's side; Erin remains quiet, "I understand you and your father's point; sometimes it is needed. It was definitely needed today. Sweetheart, am I talking too much? Do you want me to stop? I will stop. Just what do you-"

"Mom-"

"Yes honey."

"I love him," Erin admits, eyes falling guiltily towards her hands, "so much."

"I know you do."

"How could that mean nothing? Why wasn't it enough? Why wasn't I enough? Am I too-"

"You are beautiful because of who you are, not because of who you could be."

Erin readjusts herself; she rolls over to her other side –facing the wall- and her hands are underneath the pillow under her head. She's sniffing. Her thoughts are rotating between her husband, his affair and her attacker. She can't control what her mind thinks about; she wants to, but it's impossible. Her brain is working in overdrive; she's examining her entire marriage, wondering at which point it fell apart while at the same time, she's trying to remember the attack. She knows her father will question her about it, but as of right now, she had no answers.

"I honestly didn't see any of this coming. How foolish does that make me?" Her voice cracks at the end –her eyes continue to stare at the white, plain wall- she feels her mom curl into her, "Jay's such a good guy. I thought I married a really good guy. I was done with the liars, the cheaters and the bad boys. I actually had a decent man…and now that's over. What if it's me? What if I ruin guys? I'm the common link. I'm the problem here."

"Erin, no you're not."

"You're bias. You're only saying that because you're my mother."

"How about we talk about something else?"

"Like what," Erin wipes the tear drops from her eyes, "my attack? Or maybe the falling out I had with Kim? Or the fact that I lost multiple cases in court this week…which one mother?"

"We can talk about something happy."

"There's nothing happy going on in my life right now. Everything is so screwed up."

Camille sighs –tightens her hold around her daughter- and rests her head in the crook of Erin's neck. She hums softly; caressing the unbruised area on her daughter's arm, "How about-"

"Mom," Erin interrupts –voice stern and serious-, "I appreciate your help. I appreciate you trying to cheer me up, but I don't need you to do that. Let me wallow in my self-pity. Let me hate myself for what happened. Let me handle this on my own. I'm an adult and I don't need you."

"It doesn't matter how old you are, you will always be my baby." She pecks the side of her daughter's cheek, "and I'm not going anywhere. You're hurting. You've endured something that no one should have to go through. You don't deserve to suffer silently. Regardless of what you say or what you think, you do need me. I'm your mom. You'll always need your mom."

"You're not listening to me."

"I am-"

"No you're not," Erin snaps; instantly pulling herself out of her mother's arms, "You're not listening to what I have to say. You're not taking me seriously. You're undermining my words…just like he did. When I begged and pleaded with him, he overlooked everything I had to say and continued to beat me."

"Erin, this is different."

"How?"

"…because I'm your mother and I'm trying to help you!"

"I don't need your help! I suffered through this by myself and I can get over it by myself! I don't need anyone's help!"

"Yes you do." Camille's voice pleaded with her daughter's stubborn attitude.

"Do my words hold any weight with you?"

"Of course they do."

"…then why are you ignoring them?"

Erin watched as her mother rose from the bed. She walked around to stand in the direction Erin was facing. Her arms crossed; her eyes surveying the expression on her daughter's face, and her foot tapping agitatedly, ""You can ask for help sweetheart."

"I will," Erin assures, nodding solemnly, "when and if I need it."

"You were content with my help. What changed?"

"I'm not allowed to change my mind?"

"Of course you are," Camille is utterly confused; she wasn't a counselor, but she knew from the strained look in her daughter's eyes, she was going to need one.

"I appreciate your help," she whispers, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, "but it's doing me more harm than good. Mom, I'm not a kid anymore. I don't need-"Her voice fades out and her mood shifts the moment the door swings open. She sees her dad, and an uncontrollable smile pulls at her lips. If anyone would respect her wishes; it's him. She sighs in relief until she saw the person behind him; the man she already kicked out; her husband. Erin sits up –ignoring the aches in her body- and she stares him down, "What are you doing here?"

"Hank, why is he here?" Camille took a protective stance in front of her daughter. She had assumed that she wouldn't be seeing Jay anymore for the rest of the day. She thought Voight would have kicked him out of the hospital; she knew her husband, and allowing their cheating son-in-law to come into the room to visit their battered daughter was something completely out of character for him.

"He just needs to talk to Erin."

"No!" Camille shouts –hands raised in the air- she looks her husband up and down, "No. You of all people shouldn't be allowing this!" She slowly lowers her hands, "What's wrong with you?"

"It's a long story!"

"Hank," she sighs.

"Cam," he whispers; closing the distance between he and his wife.

Camille took a step back, "She's been through enough Hank."

"I know that. I'm well aware of what happened," His eyes fell upon his silent daughter; she's watching him; suspiciously. He leaves his wife's side and approaches Erin's hospital bed, "And I also know that she's going to need all of us by her side, including her husband."

"The husband who cheated on her?" the angered mother shouts across the room; wincing sadly at the flinch of her daughter's shoulders, "Sorry sweetheart."

Voight takes a cautionary step forward, "I wouldn't bring him in here if it wasn't for a good reason. Erin deserves a peace of mind. Just…hear him out."

"No. I want him out of here." Camille continues to argue; finger pointing in the direction she wants Jay to walk.

"Cam"

"Now Hank, I'm serious!" She screams; voice vibrating the quiet, thin walls. The overzealous mother approaches the door, and yanks it open, "Leave Jay!"

If Camille had her way, she would make sure that Jay left and didn't come back. He had some nerve even showing his face after everything he put her daughter through. Kicking him out the first time wasn't enough; he had to show his face again, with the help from her own husband; her daughter's father. How could he even fathom the thought of Jay breaking their daughter's heart?

"I didn't cheat on you Erin!" Jay pleads with his wife; he's making no movement towards the open door. He's here to speak to Erin; he's here to earn her forgiveness and understanding. He didn't care about anyone else's opinion. Hers was the only one that truly mattered to him.

Erin sniffs; her facial expression contorting into one of fury, "You heard my mother."

"Erin, I wouldn't do that to you!"

"You can't bullshit a bullshitter Jay, I'm a lawyer."

Voight immediately jumps to Jay's defense, "He was undercover."

"Dad, if you're just going to defend him and take his side then you can leave too!"

"I'm not taking his side!" Hank approaches his daughter's bedside; he's close, he can see every bruise, blemish, cut and swollen portion of the skin –he struggles to overlook the damage done to her face- he's trying everything in his power to remain calm and focus on the current topic. He sets his hand down upon her hand, "I just want you to know the truth and I'll support whatever decision you make after you learn it."

Erin silently looks around the room –her father's hand in hers- he squeezes reassuringly. She trusted him. Her trust may have been on a slippery slope for Jay, but she knew her dad and she knew he had her best interests always in mind. She takes a look at her mother; she's terrified, she has absolutely no way of knowing how this would turn out and that freaked her out the most.

"Hank, are you sure?" Camille seems more unnerved than her own daughter.

"I'm positive."

Erin nods; she doesn't look at her husband, but she gives him the okay to speak. She trusts her father. He was protective. He wouldn't allow for Jay to even murmur a word to her if he didn't trust what was coming out of his mouth.

"I was undercover. There have been a string of murders that led us to an underground fight club. It's what each victim had in common. They've all been traced back to it; they've all been fighters in it. I was supposed to infiltrate it."

"What does that have to do with you cheating?" Camille interjects –she's pacing- he wasn't only trying to clear his name with Erin, he was trying to clear his name with her mother too.

"I haven't spoken to Ally in years; since I first started working at Intelligence actually, and that was to say goodbye. I found out a few months ago that she moved back to town. A few weeks later, I found out that her on-again/off-again boyfriend is running the fight club. It was pure speculation. We needed solid evidence."

"So, you went undercover…" Erin sighs; speaking for the first time in a much relaxed tone.

"I did," Jay nods, easing himself closer and closer to her, "I reconnected with her…and used that connection to get in. We've been slowly building up a case against her and her boyfriend. She manages the funds for fight club."

"You think she's involved in the murders?"

"No," he makes himself clear; shaking his head to emphasize his point, "I think it's her boyfriend. I think he kills the members if they try to leave."

Erin sniffs; she's withholding the tears, "So what does that have to do with her being at our house…practically naked?"

"I didn't know she was coming over," his voice pleads with her. He needs her to believe him. He rushes to her opposite side, "She came unannounced. She was drunk. It was raining. I left her alone for a few minutes while I called her a taxi…the one you must have jumped into when you stormed out. When I went to tell her the taxi will be here in a few minutes, she was stripping down…and then she kissed me. It happened so fast."

The tears finally fall from her eyes, "Why should I believe you?"

"…because you know me…and you know I would never in a million years hurt you like that."

"What?"

"Erin, I love you…always and forever…that will never change. I love you entirely too much to hurt you; much less cheat on you. Babe-"

Her sobs cut him off; all her tears finally releasing in one loud cry, "You should have cheated!"

Halstead is caught completely off guard and so are her parents in the room. Voight's brows are furrowed as he looks between her and his wife. He didn't understand. Camille moves closer –retaking her earlier position against Erin's side- she starts humming again. Her mother is just as confused, but she doesn't want to speak out on it.

"You should have just cheated on me with her," Erin continues to cry –swatting her mother away- she brings her legs up and wraps her arms around them.

Hank and Jay's eyes meet, but it's her dad who questions her, "Erin, why would-"

"So this wouldn't have been for nothing!" She bites at her nails; she's trying to suppress the growing urge to cry, "This is all so screwed up! You don't get it! None of you get it! I stormed out because of you," she snappishly points at Jay, "I took that taxi to get away from you! I drank to forget you! I almost hooked up with a random guy to get back at you! And that was all for nothing!" Her bottom lip quivers, "It was all for nothing!"

Erin feels worse; she feels this happened because of him; because of what he had her believe; because he didn't come after her; he never explained the truth to her; it's still his fault. Regardless of what he did and didn't do, it's his fault. Erin feels him set his hand upon hers, and she instantaneously pulls it back. Her body had no control; it was a reflex. Her heart was absolutely relieved that he didn't cheat, but her irrational thoughts wished he had. Everything had just gotten blown out of proportion and he could have done something if he chased after her.

"Erin-"

"Did you at least arrest her?" His wife asks, interrupting Jay's next attempt at a plea.

"No," he shakes his head, attempting to reach out for her hand again; she pulls it away, "she knew I was a detective, but when she showed up it was because she found out I was undercover, working to bring her boyfriend down."

"…so this was really for nothing."

"We're going to catch this guy kid," Voight pats his daughter's knee, "I promise you. And when I get him, he won't see the light of day again. You have my word."

"Is that some shaded threat?"

Voight shrugs, "I thought it was a pretty clear one."

Erin shifts uncomfortably in bed –lying back on her fluffed pillows- she attempts to close her eyes and clear her mind, but the door opens again. Three nurses enter the room; holding some sort of kit. It registers immediately for her parents and Jay, but Erin is clueless. She grips the covers in her hands –her knuckles turning white- and she's looking between the faces of each nurse, "What's going on?" Erin asks; innocently; her wide eyes unknowingly looking around.

"We came to get your consent."

"Consent for," it registers. Her head begins to shake erratically. She can't go through that. She can't. She can't. Her voice is strong as she yells out, "No! I can't do this. You can't make me! Please! I…I can't do this! Please don't make me," she's hysterical.

"We're not," April assures, pulling the gloves off her hands, "We'll only do it with your consent. No one else can consent to it, but you."

"Well you don't have my consent."

Her father remains seated against the edge of her bed, "Erin, maybe you should reconsider…it could really help us with our investigation."

"…maybe if you guys do your job right you won't need my help!"

Camille squeezes her shoulders gently, "only do it if you're comfortable. Your father, Jay and I will stay out of it. You have full control over this Erin. They'll listen to what you have to say."

"What are you going to do to me," she whispers; if she agrees, she needs to be fully aware of the entire process, "what does it involve?"

"…it's a rigorous examination, but we'll keep you informed every step of the way. We'll have your parents and husband step out so the less people in the room the better you may feel. You will be exposed; I'm sorry for that, but we have to swab, collect samples and take pictures."

"Okay," she stares down at her lap; she nods, "we can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I got this. I have this all under control, but…but please," her voice cracks during her plea, "please make this quick."


	4. At Fault

**I appreciate all of your kind words and reviews. The next update should come around Friday; on Thursday I will not be near a computer and unfortunately I won't be able to post. To make it up to all of you, I'll make the next chapter extra-long and extra special. Thanks and enjoy!**

Camille is sitting in the waiting room –watching the minute hand tick by on the wall clock- counting down the time until she's allowed to go back into her daughter's hospital room. She's waiting for April or one of the other nurses to come out and give her the thumbs up to enter. She's anxious to get back into the room. It's taking forever; every minute that passes feels like an hour. She shifts once again, "What's taking so long?"

"They have to be thorough," Voight answers, squeezing his wife's knee assuredly, "We have to be patient with this Cam. It's not an in and out process; it'll take time."

"One of us should be in there with her," Camille rebutted, she rises to her feet and begins pacing, "This is not something she should be going through alone."

Voight glances at the clock, "It's almost three in the morning…maybe you should-"

"If you suggest I go home and rest, you obviously don't know me at all."

Her husband chuckles –he shakes his head- and walks over to her, "I know Camille. I would never suggest such a thing. I was just going to say, maybe you should grab some coffee; it doesn't look like we'll be leaving here anytime soon."

Voight relaxes –he watches his wife approach the waiting room's coffee machine- he glances over to Jay; sitting alone in the corner. He's been like that for the last thirty minutes. Hank follows behind his wife, "…maybe you should talk to Halstead."

"Why," she asks, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"He needs some cheering up; and regardless of what Erin says, he's one of the only ones who can get through to her. She needs him, and he needs her. They need each other." Voight presses a kiss to his wife's cheek as she sprinkles sugar into her warm beverage, "You like Halstead, remember? You're the one who convinced me to accept their relationship in the first place."

"That was before all of this," she stirs her coffee with a spoon.

"Cam, he didn't cheat on her," Voight reminded; turning his wife to face him. His hand brushed against the side of her face and he caressed her cheek; "He was just undercover."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Camille turns away and continues to mix her coffee.

"It's supposed to help you realize that this isn't his fault." He's whispering; he doesn't want Jay to overhear their conversation, "The only person responsible is the person who attacked her."

"He's still free Hank," she casually changes the conversation.

"…not for long."

"What are you going to do?"

Hank watches as his wife pours in cream; "I'm going to catch him…the rest you do not need to know. You wouldn't want to know."

"The longer you wait, the further he may get away."

"He's not getting away Camille," Voight asserts; earning the side-eye from his wife, "I'll find him wherever he may hide. If he flees the city; I'll follow him. This case won't go cold."

Camille pushes a lid down onto her coffee cup, "When are you going to start investigating?"

"I'll start as soon as I question Erin."

The unnerved mother draws in a long and loud sip of hot coffee. It burns her throat; but she acts unbothered. Her mind isn't on her own pain at the moment. She slams her coffee cup down and turns to face her husband, "Voight, what else do you want from her? She doesn't know who did this. All she knows is she was leaving Molly's to walk to our house and some guy attacked her; the only reason he kept her alive was because of you."

"Me?" Voight points at himself; he's confused.

"Erin wouldn't be alive if she wasn't your daughter!" Camille exclaims –earning Halstead's attention- as she picks up her hot cup of coffee.

"Wait, Cam, what happened? Erin told you this."

"Oh that's right," she takes another sip of coffee and rolls her eyes at her husband's question; "she wasn't able to tell you because you were too afraid to come inside."

"I wasn't afraid to come in," he corrected; watching from his peripheral as Halstead approached.

Jay wanted to steer clear of Camille and her maternal wrath, but the moment he heard her talking about Erin and her attacker, it drew him in. He didn't care about how upset Camille was with him, he needed to know what she knew about the attack. Any little detail helped; especially since right now Erin was currently unable to give them information.

"Camille," Jay calls out, tapping onto his mother-in-law's shoulder.

She turns around, "What?"

"Tell us everything Erin told you," he didn't let the hiss in her voice bother him. He couldn't blame her for being upset. If he were in her shoes; he'd probably kill the guy married to his daughter if something like this happened. He admired her for holding back.

"Erin said that she left Mollys' to walk to my house when the man attacked her. While he was," she gulps –hesitant to say the word- she swallows the nerves, releases a breath and continues, "While he was attacking her, he got her ID, saw her name and asked about you," she points at her husband, "Apparently he's scared of her father and that's why he didn't kill her. He was scared of you enough not to kill her; but he still attacked her. This guy definitely has some guts…I'll give him that."

Jay looks to his boss, "He's either brave or really stupid."

"So," Voight ignores his comment and looks between his wife and Halstead, "this guy obviously knows me. It could be someone I put away in the past, it could be the family member of someone I put away, it could be anyone," he rubs his forehead and walks to take a seat, "god this is my fault."

"No it's not," Camille shoves her coffee into Halstead's hands. She rushes over to her husband and stoops low in front of him, "This isn't your fault. You are not to blame for this."

"Cam, this man knows me. He probably attacked Erin because of her relation to me."

"Are you speculating?" Her hand brushes against his knee caressingly, "What did you tell me about speculating?"

"She was probably targeted."

"You don't know that."

"Camille, I don't need you trying to cheer me up. I'm a big boy."

She slaps his thigh, "…then act like it! Use that emotion to focus on finding this bastard! Suck it up Sergeant! I already have one child to worry about…I don't need two."

"Someone used her to get back at me."

"Hank-"

"Because of me," Voight bites his lower lip; struggling to clear his mind of the image of his daughter, "he attacked her."

"If anything he kept her alive because of you."

"…too bad he won't get the same luxury," Voight growls; standing to his feet.

"There's my husband I know and love," she grins, rising up and taking her coffee from Jay.

Hank looks to Jay and waves him over. Tossing his keys towards the younger detective, he nodded towards the exit. Camille is left standing –in the middle of the waiting room- confusedly looking around. She sets her cup down and rushes behind them. The nurses weren't done yet. Erin was still being processed. Camille quickened her jog and caught up with her husband and son-in-law. Tugging onto Hank's arm, she desperately turned him around to face her, "What are you doing? Where are you going?"

Hank pulls his arm from her hold, "We're investigating…"

"You haven't spoken to Erin yet."

"You gave me enough to start out on," His hand falls upon her shoulder; a grimace falls upon his face, "We don't know much, but we do know Erin was last seen at Mollys. We have to go. Luckily there's no traffic, but the bar is closing soon. We want to catch Herman or Gaby."

"What are you doing still standing here then?"

Voight nods at his wife; he appreciates her not asking many questions. She understands that the job held importance and currently this case was their top priority. Camille watches until their figures disappear. The mother sighs and turns on her heel –coffee forgotten- she heads towards the receptionist desk. Her fingers lightly tap upon it and she waits for Maggie to look up, "Yes."

"Hi, I'm Camille Voight; Erin Voight's mother…she's a patient here."

"Yes, I'm aware," Maggie signs something within a manila folder, "What can I help you with?"

"My daughter is currently getting examined and I was wondering how much longer will it take?" She leans against the desk; maybe she should finish that coffee, she's tired. Her adrenaline is wearing off, "She's been in there for a nice amount of time."

"I'm actually not sure. It's private."

"Of course," Camille nods; backing away from the desk, "Thanks anyway."

Maggie watches the mother glumly turn on her heel and head back into the waiting room. She feels bad for her. She wished she could offer her some information, but she currently didn't know anything. Camille lifts her coffee –takes an uncomfortable seat- and begins sipping at the caffeinated beverage. Her eyes fall upon the clock and she begins staring at it once more.

Sirens are blaring through the night; or the early morning. It's almost sunrise. Hank is swerving through the few cars on the road. He has to get to Mollys' before the owners and staff clear out. He's honking the horn when cars failed to move out of the way. If he wasn't in such a hurry, he would memorize their license plates and send them a sizable ticket in the mail.

"Camille's right you know," Halstead speaks up; his deep voice filling the silence in the car, "none of this is your fault."

"Halstead, I don't need you cheering me up."

"I'm just stating facts," Jay's holding onto the handle above his head as Hank swerves from lane to lane. He's holding on for dear life.

"Let's just focus on finding this guy."

Hank was never the type to discuss his emotions and his vulnerabilities. If he did, it definitely wasn't with one of his detectives. It'll be more with Camille, Erin…or even Olinsky. His squad failed to see emotions from Voight unless it was anger. He preferred to keep it like that. He wanted, no needed, to remain disconnected from his team. It was a part of Voight's being. He wasn't the type to wear his heart on his sleeve; one would have to dig and pry to get to know him. He didn't share and he barely cried. Sadness for him was usually disguised as anger. He was a very angry man when his buttons are pressed.

"We're here," Hank shuts off the sirens and the engine.

Halstead hops out, "Their cars are still here."

"Herman! Gabriella! Stella!" He sees the three firefighters after he pulls open the entrance door, "I know you want to get home but I need to ask you all a few questions."

"Is everything okay?" Gabriella tosses a wiping rag over her shoulder.

"Erin," Halstead speaks up; eyes pleading with them to tell him what he needs to know. He could only hope that they knew something. He steps towards Gaby, "She was here."

"Yeah," Herman speaks up from behind the bar; he's drying glasses.

"She was attacked while walking to my house," Voight informs the firefighters –each person's eyes widen and whatever action they were attempting to do, completely stops- his words freeze the room, "She was walking home from the bar and some guy attacked her."

"Is she okay?" It's Stella who speaks up.

"I hope so," Jay nods. He didn't know how to answer her question.

Erin was alive, yes; she was also physically beat up, mentally scarred and emotionally drained. Is that considered okay? Blood work is currently being done. A rape kit which is currently doing more harm than good to her mental psyche is underway as they're here. Is that considered okay? What's okay? What does that even mean?

"We need to know was there any strange activity going on here." Voight snaps the conversation back. He appreciated their concern for his daughter, but right now he needed answers.

"Was she alone the entire time? Did someone take a liking to her? If someone didn't approach her, did you notice someone watching her? Did someone leave out right after she left?"

"She," Herman starts to speak when Voight's earlier words repeated in his head, "Wait, you said she was attacked while walking to your house?"

Hank nods, "Yes."

"Erin didn't leave alone," Stella chimes in. She rises from the barstool.

Herman fills in the blanks, "She was talking to some guy. He approached her. He took her to the bathroom and then they left together."

"And you let them leave together?" It's Halstead who shouts it. If he didn't say it, Voight definitely was going to shout something. Jay's brows are furrowed –he's confused-, "How do you just let a woman leave with a random man? And you know this woman! You know Erin isn't that type of person…and she's married! You all know this! She's married…to me!"

"She wanted to go," Herman starts to explain.

"She wanted to go," Jay repeats; smirking devilishly, "She was drunk! She wasn't thinking clearly! She was hurt! She didn't know what she wanted! How could you just turn a blind eye?"

"We didn't do that!" Gaby chimes in; defending herself and her co-workers, "Erin is a grown woman and she was insistent on leaving. We offered to call her a taxi and she declined."

"That's just great," Halstead nods, backing away from them, "Three people who we trust and consider as friends just stood by and watched my wife leave the bar with a man who possibly beat and raped her…but, like you said, she's a grown woman. That's all you have to be in order to ensure no one protects you, no one will have your back and no one will look out for you. You should have called me! You could have called a taxi. You could have done something instead of wiping your hands clean and watching her walk out the door with him."

"She wanted to go." Gabriella's voice is sympathetic; she can clearly see the hurt in Jay's eyes, "I'm sorry Jay but she wanted to hook up with him."

"No she didn't," he's shaking his head trying to erase the words she just uttered.

Gabriella steps closer, "Yes she did," she pats the detective's shoulder, "she stopped us from calling her a taxi because she was going to his place. She wanted to have sex with him."

"No she didn't," Jay repeats himself.

Stella chimes into the conversation, "It was consensual."

"It's not consensual if she's drunk!"

Voight is just as pissed as his son-in-law if not more so. He's absolutely angry. His opinion fell in line with Jay's view. In the hospital room, Erin did mention that she wanted to hook up with someone else to get back at her husband. If Hank had time, he would chime into the argument –side with Jay- and make each firefighter regret their decision to watch Erin as she left, but he had more important things to focus on; who did Erin leave with? If she left out with him, how did she end up walking? What happened afterwards? He needed answers.

"The guy she left with…is he a regular?" Hank shouts over the blaring voices of the feuding adults, "Does he come here a lot?"

"I've never seen him before," Herman answers; he's a father too, he probably would react the same if it were one of his children.

"Do you have surveillance?"

"…of course," Gabriella jumps up to pull out the back storage keys.

Hank is watching as Jay paces around the bar. He needs to keep a leveled head right now. He has just as much reason to be upset, but he's maintaining himself. It's all for Erin. He needs to focus on Erin right now and not his own emotions. He could freely act anyway he would like the moment they sink this bastard in the lake.

"Halstead go outside and call Mouse," Voight orders; pointing towards the exit, "Wake him up. Time is of the essence and we need to find this guy before he disappears for good."

"We can send them to Mouse; it'll be quicker," Herman offers. He feels guilty. They all feel guilty. They're all willing to do anything to help. It's the least they could do.

"Let Mouse know he'll be expecting an email. Update him. Let him know who to look out for."

Gabriella is in the back room; Stella soon disappears to help her. Herman and Voight remain inside the bar; standing awkwardly a few feet away from each other.

"Father to father, how's Erin really doing?" Herman walks around the bar. The mood is somber. It's unchangeable no matter who speaks and what is said.

Voight sighs; he looks around and sees it's just him and Herman, "…not good." Hank scratches at his chin, "She…she has a long recovery ahead of her."

"That's good right?"

Hank's brow rises –he's confused-, "What?"

"…not good as in it's good this happened, but it's good that she's alive and can recover. She's a survivor. She'll get through this. She's half you and half Camille. If anyone can recover from this, it's definitely her."

"Thanks Herman."

"I do feel bad man," Herman bites against his lower lip, "I wish I can rewind time and do this all over. I should have done something. I should have kicked him out of my bar and dragged Erin into the booth until I reached someone to come pick her up. It's what I would have wanted for my daughter…I owe the same to yours. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Hank struggles to utter the words, but he manages to get them out, "It's not your fault and it's not Gaby and Stella's fault. You had no way of knowing."

"I need a drink," Herman reaches across the bar and grabs a glass, "You want one? It's most definitely on the house."

"No, I need to stay clear-headed."

"…of course."

"Thanks for the offer." Voight turns to leave; he has no other reason to be here. The surveillance footage is going to be sent to Mouse and his computer tech officer will search through the footage, find the man, identify him and then send them the information.

Herman pours himself a strong glass of whatever he could find. He needed it. He needed a glass of liquor and he needed to kiss his wife and children the second he got home. Herman downed the shot, "Hank!" He calls out, pouring himself another shot, "Any day you need a drink, just come on by…it's on the house, whenever…don't hesitate."

"Thanks Herman."

"And if there's something else I can do, just-"

"You helped enough." Hank departs from the bar.

It's no longer raining –it's drizzling- but the sprinkles are slowly fizzling out. It's about to stop completely. The sergeant spots his detective pacing circles around his truck. His hand is rubbing his forehead and he's muttering words to himself.

"Jay, we should head back to the hospital. Erin should be done any second now."

Halstead looks up at him –eyes wide and watery- he drops his hand from his face, "Be honest with me Voight. Am I blaming them because I know this is all, 100% my fault?"

"This isn't your fault Jay. It's no one's fault, but the man who attacked her!"

"I could have clearly done something to prevent this, right?"

"Honestly, we all could have," Hank approaches his son-in-law; his hand rests upon Jay's shoulder and he squeezes it comfortingly, "There was something each one of us could have done to prevent this, but we shouldn't think like that. We can't go back in time. No matter how much we want to, we can't change what's already been done." He squeezes his shoulder again, "We're going to find the man who did this. We're going to find out why he did this, why he chose that location, why he chose her and why he chose to spare her life? We're going to get answers…and then we're going to kill him."

"Hank-"

"If you're not up to it, I won't blame you…Just know, you won't be able to stop me."

Jay nods, "I have no intention to. I don't want to help you kill him though."

"Okay," Voight affirms.

"However, I do want some time with him before you take him away."

Voight drops his hand, "Okay," he reaffirms.

The in-laws separate; jog to their separate sides of the truck and hop in. He flicks the sirens on. It may not be an emergency to the city, but it was important. He needed to get back. Voight was focused on the road; it was approaching the next hour. They're all running on no sleep, but the adrenaline keeps them awake and active.

"I'm afraid this is the end of my marriage."

Voight presses his foot down against the gas, "I don't think it is."

"I hope you're right."

"Did you get in touch with Mouse?"

Halstead wipes his eyes, "Yes, he's throwing on some clothes and then is going to head in to the district. He wants updates on Erin."

Camille rises to her feet the second she sees April walking towards her. The usually composed nurse looks upset; she's trying to keep herself together.

"Can I go back?"

All April can do is bite down upon her lower lip and nod. She's suppressing tears. Camille tosses her empty coffee cup into the trash and rushes pass the nurse. She's shouting apologies as she pushes herself through nurses, doctors and other hospital staff in her quest to get to her daughter. Her feet slow to a stop as she approaches the closed door. She has to be strong. She can be strong. She knows it. Camille reaches for the door and pushes it open.

Erin is sitting in the bed –dressed in a new hospital gown- staring at her fumbling fingers. Her head immediately shoots up at the sight of her mother. Her shoulders curl, her lip quivers and her face contort into sadness, "Mommy," her voice murmurs; it's a barely audible squeak; it's all she can whisper before bursting into tears. Camille slams the door behind her; moves as fast as her body allows and swallows her daughter whole in a much needed embrace. Erin's head is resting on her chest as her loud sobs surround the room; she's pretty sure everyone in the hospital can hear them. Camille rests her chin atop her daughter's head and rocks her gently, "You're so strong and I'm so proud of you." Erin doesn't hear her; her cries are too loud and they drown out her mother's voice.


	5. Dark Inside

Sleep is a distant memory; it's supposed to be a period of time in which you escape from reality; from the harsh truths, the tough decisions and the stressful events that plague a person's day, however what is one to do when those same things you want to escape from are the main reasons why you can't? The essence of sleep buries her unconsciousness into another realm of reality. It's not an escape for her. The ten short minutes she managed to close her eyes and actually 'sleep' –if one were to call it that- was filled with mumbling, tossing, turning and clenching of the hospital bed sheets. She couldn't escape from the truth; the realism of what happened to her tormented her when she was awake and when she fell asleep. There was absolutely no escape from her attack; however, her nightmares had a mind of their own. They were able to stray from the facts of her attack and land into the world of what ifs; what if he had killed her, what if he had kidnapped her, and what if he locked her in a basement and she never saw her family again? It all felt real. She was forced to fight it. She had to fight the sleep that constantly tugged at her eyelids. Sleep was coming at her like a hatchet –sharp and powerful- and while she knew it was a necessity in life, she had to fight it with absolutely everything she had.

Even if the nightmares weren't an issue, the idea of drifting off into an unconscious state where she'll be defenseless and vulnerable for hours, completely oblivious to her surroundings was enough of a reason on its own to strengthen her fight against the power of sleep. However, after 24 hours passed between the fight between sleep vs. person; sleep wins. With her mother's hums, comforting backrubs and smiling face, Erin lost. It wasn't a fair fight. Sleep had an advantage. Sleep had a partner –her mother- who fought against her will to stay awake. She was healing; sleep would do her body good, but Erin knew herself better than anyone, and while it would help her heal physically, mentally it will drain and consume her. Her attack will play on a constant loop. She'll have no control over her actions; her body paralyzed as she's forced to watch –like a fly on the wall- herself being beaten.

As she slept, her mother decided that now was the perfect time to venture to the hospital's cafeteria and pick herself and Erin up something to eat. They haven't eaten in the last 24 hours. With her hand gripped tightly around her cell phone –her eyes drawn to the long list of text messages from her husband- she began responding. He wanted constant updates on Erin. They both –along with Halstead- stayed with her last night. She didn't argue or protest. After the sexual assault examination, Erin was too dejected, tired, and heartbroken and physically weak to argue against any suggestions her parents made. She cried for hours; Erin was inconsolable. There was nothing anyone could do to cheer her up and so Camille chose silence. It was the best response for the current time. To speak would be a waste of breath; Erin wouldn't be listening. Camille simply wrapped her arms around her daughter, rocked her back and forth and hummed softly. Humming was their thing; their way of saying without using actual words that I'm here for you. It was the Voights' family way of coping and being there for one another. Before Erin was born, Camille had multiple miscarriages and by the fourth, Hank started humming his wife to sleep. It was humorous to her; a rough sergeant with a raspy voice humming a note that was obviously too high pitch; it definitely did its job in cheering her up, at least for that moment in time. That's how the humming all started…and it continued on from there.

The following day was filled with nurses consistently walking in and out of the room, checking her stats and changing her IVs. Even if Erin wanted to sleep, she could never close her eyes long enough before the next round of nurses came inside to check on her charts. Her parents and Jay knew that any attempt for Erin to sleep that night was little to none and therefore they chose to take shifts. Not once through the night was she awake by herself. If she needed to go to the restroom, one of them escorted her. If she needed someone to talk to, they listened…more like her mom did. She refused to speak to her father and Jay. If Erin requested for anything, she would wake her mother and ask her, or page a nurse; she would do anything besides ask Halstead or her dad. By the time the afternoon approached, her eyes grew heavy. She needed to give them a break; they were running on little fuel. Her dad and Jay eventually reported into work, thankfully leaving her with the one person she trusted; her mother. Camille has never lied to her.

With her eyes closed, her mind drifting off, Erin rolled over onto her back. Her head whipped side to side as visions of the night before played through her mind like some R-rated movie. Our dreams –and nightmares- can be good or bad moments of the past, predictions for the future or things that will never and could never possibly be. Her nightmares decided to take her back to that night; 24 hours ago, the moment her entire world changed. Darkness inside of her began bubbling up the longer she was forced to relive that moment. Sleep was supposed to be her escape. It was supposed to offer comfort, freedom and rest. It places us in a world where anything is possible; a lost loved one is able to visit, a broken dream is achieved, and regrets are transformed into fulfillment. For those perfect hours of peace, we are all complete, we're whole again. She misses that feeling; she took it for granted. Every night, some people look forward to going to sleep, and now she doesn't because with sleep comes the constant playback of her personal nightmare.

Erin didn't want to fall asleep in the first place. Her knuckles turn white and her fingers clench the thin fabric of the bed sheet. She's crying in her sleep; she has never done that before. She sits up in a panic; sweat beads pooling on her forehead, soaking the bandage wrapped around her head. She's out of breath. It's dark in the room and she's absolutely terrified.

"Mom," Erin whispers; praying to herself that her mother is within hearing distance of her voice, "Mom, are you in here?" She feels just as defenseless and vulnerable awake as she does when she's asleep. It's a 24 hour thing. It can't be cut on and off like a light switch.

She fought with everything she had to stay away. She doesn't even remember the moment she lost. She doesn't remember falling asleep. It was uncontrollable; an unavoidable turn of events. Erin wants to throw the covers to the ground and search for her mother. Camille couldn't have been too far; she wouldn't just up and leave her…would she? Erin feels bad for doubting her mother. Doubt was a characteristic that seemed to emerge since last night. She couldn't help but lack trust and question everything. What she thought was true wasn't. Her husband wasn't cheating on her. She didn't need to storm out. She shouldn't have taken the taxi to the bar. What was she thinking going with a man she had only known for five minutes? Her fingers run through her hair, stopping briefly at the back to tug upon lose strands.

"Erin," Dr. Rhodes calls out –after knocking briefly on the door and opening it-, he steps inside, clipboard secured in hand and approaches the side of her bed, "Hey, how are you feeling? It's good that you're getting some sleep. Is there-"

"Can you turn on the lights?" She cuts him off and ignores every word he spoke after his entrance. All she sees is a dark silhouette –towering above her small and fragile body- smiling at her. Anyone would be scared.

Dr. Rhodes hits the switch, "…my apologies."

The bright beams blind her, but she prefers this over talking with a man in a dark hospital room. Her head was killing her; the pain meds must have worn off. She's starting to feel the bruises, the swollen limbs and the cuts around her body. She's starting to feel everything.

"I think the pain meds wore off," She says this with such poise; she's continually burying down the truth. Erin is in pain and she needs help. Those words feel too far out of her reach to speak. She's not that type of person. She can take care of herself.

"I'll send in a nurse to refill your dosage," his eyes don't leave the clipboard –he's casually skimming the words written upon the paperwork-, he does eventually look up and smile, "I'm here to let you know we have your test results and everything in your bloodwork looks good and normal. However, in a few weeks we need to run more tests to make sure we didn't miss anything. I'm prescribing you the Plan B pill, we'll be giving you that right away, and in two to three weeks, we'll run another pregnancy test," As Dr. Rhodes continues, two nurses come in, one holding said pill and a paper cup of water while the other approaches her IV, ready to swap the empty bag of pain meds with a new one. They're different nurses; it must have been a shift change. Erin doesn't argue; she's getting used to being poked and prodded. She tunes back into the doctor's words when he repeats his last question, "Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm fine." Her eyes are glazed over; she's ejecting herself from the present. It's a survival mechanism. It's her only way of coping with what happened. It's the one time she doesn't have to think or worry about anything.

"Are you comfortable?"

"…as comfortable as I possibly can be in this place," she quips, loosening up the moment the paid meds began kicking in.

"Can I help you with something else?"

Erin takes a hold of the prescribed pill –throws it into her mouth- and dry swallows it, "No, you've been great…thanks," her voice is low. She grabs the cup of water and drinks it. Erin hands the garbage back to the nurse, she lays back on her side and pulls the covers above her shoulders, "When you leave out, can you make sure you leave the light on?"

Dr. Rhodes nodded for the nurses to leave out, "Of course," he backs away, gives her one last look and leaves out.

Erin stares blankly at the white wall; it's currently the most interesting part of the room. A white wall described as interesting, that's sad. She berates her thoughts. She's purposely thinking of anything else, hence the white wall.

"Knock, knock," she hears a light and familiar voice call out. Erin rolls onto her other shoulder to see the person who decided to grace her presence. At the sight of Burgess, Erin rolls her eyes, and Kim uses that moment to assertively approach the topic, "I'm not giving up on our friendship." Burgess takes Erin's silence as a hint to continue, "I have an ear to listen if you want to vent."

"I just want you to leave," Erin whispered, however the silence and emptiness of the room made it loud enough for Kim to unmistakably hear.

Burgess shuts the door quietly, "I'm not leaving you alone."

"Please, that's all I want right now. I want to be alone."

"This isn't the time for you to be alone," Kim starts to approach; heartbreaking at the sight of Erin pulling the covers over her head, "Erin, I'm so sorry for what I said to you before the attack. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it."

"…then why did you say it?"

It was an understandable question. It was a great follow-up question. Erin wanted to know. If you didn't mean something, why say it? As she waits to hear Kim's response, Erin lowers the covers, "Why did you say it if you didn't mean it?"

"I guess," Kim shrugs; "I guess I was just trying to hurt you because I was hurt."

"Well congratulations," Erin begins clapping sarcastically, "you did!"

"I'm-"

"Erin, why would you say something like that? That was rude; completely disrespectful," Erin mimics Kim's voice and repeats the words spoken to her a day ago, "I come to you for advice and you give me bullshit in return. You're just jealous. You wish you had the relationship that me and Adam have. As friends, I thought I could come to you for advice, but it seems like your pessimistic attitude will always get in the way. You find problems in everything; you're nitpicky. If something seems perfect, leave it to you to find something wrong with it. How about before you give me advice about my relationship, you make sure yours is fine and dandy."

"I'm sorry," it kills Kim to hear what she said; she was just upset.

Erin ignores the apology and continues to repeat Kim's words, "I laid my relationship out there for you and you just made a joke of it like everything you do. You can't hold anything back; grow a filter please. It would save you from a lot of trouble in the future."

"I was hurt."

"That doesn't give you the right to speak to me anyway you like," Erin snaps; voice louder than she has heard in the last 24 hours. She sits up in bed, "I don't say much Kim, but I listen a lot. I only gave you advice because you asked me for it. It's just unfortunate that you didn't agree with what I had to say. You already felt hurt because of Adam and you wanted me to feel just as bad."

"I just want to be here for you," Kim takes another step towards her best friend, "I'll be quiet…just let me be here for you. Yell at me. Call me names. Hit me. Throw something at me. Do something! Don't bottle all of that anger up! It'll help you feel better! I want you to feel better Erin!"

Before Erin could shoot down her friend's words, the door opens and Voight enters; holding two bouquets of flowers. He is face is stoic –he's unblinking- and he's hesitant to step inside.

"You want to help me feel better Burgess?" Erin looks at her former friend; hanging onto the validity of Kim's previously spoken words. Kim nods and Erin continues, "Get him out of here."

"I brought you some flowers," he holds them up.

She shakes her head, "That won't cheer me up."

"I didn't expect it to," he continues into the room; her previous words not upsetting him; his daughter is hurting right now; she's looking for someone to blame. Voight sets the flowers down, "I just know they'll brighten the room up a bit." He turns to face his daughter, "Your mother told me to pick some up on my way here."

"Are you going to get him out?" Erin looks up at Kim standing beside her. Her former friend opens her mouth to speak –no words coming out- a hesitant and nervous look on her face answers Erin's question, "…figures." She turns back to her dad to see him pulling up a chair, "Did you at least bring my briefcase from my home office?"

"No," Voight takes a seat beside her bed.

"I should be at work right now! I'm going to fall extremely behind! Briana and Parker are going to steal my cases the first chance they get and my boss will happily give it to them."

Hank leans forward –swallows her hand between his- he grins at his daughter, "Work can wait."

"No, it can't," she whines; her voice actually faltering and breaking the heart of her father and friend. She's shaking her head; tears streaming down her face, "My boss has been up my ass this entire week! He hates me! He'll fire me the first chance he gets…all I had to do was give him a reason. And now he has one," her voice cracks once again, "he's going to fire me."

"I'll stop pass your job," her father says definitively; it's set in stone.

"You don't need to do that."

"I am."

"Dad-"

"Fine," he gives in too easily, "I won't." He says he won't stop by, but Voight's not above going around his words and promises. He'll just send Olinsky and Dawson…maybe Platt; she sure has a way of getting things done and getting her point across.

Once he gives in, a silence falls around the room. Kim temporarily disappears and reappears dragging a chair from the waiting room. She had recently gotten off from work and she didn't work the next day. She had every intention of staying the night, redeeming herself with Erin. The chair is dragged to the opposite side of her bed; unbeknownst to Erin, there's a hint of a smile playing at her lips, however the glare in her eyes contradict the grin on her lips. She feels her dad gently squeeze her hand surrounded by his, "I want to talk to you," he sighs.

"You mean you want to question me." She corrects. Her dad's a sergeant. She knows how this all works. She isn't stupid and she hates surprises. Her dad should just come out with it.

"Chad Harrison," Voight firmly speaks; face straight and eyes narrow as they observe her.

She shrugs, "Is that name supposed to mean something to me?"

"He's the guy you left Mollys' with, isn't it?"

At the mention of the bar last night, Erin tensed up. She knew the questions were coming and she really needed to get this part over with, but it was all easier said than done. She didn't know the man's name from yesterday. They failed to talk about that part during their flirtatious meeting. Erin looked between her father and Kim; her friend's eyes reassuring her, and with the pat of the thigh from Kim, Erin swallows her nerves and answers honestly, "I don't know," she's looking at Burgess as she answers, her eyes are more calm and peaceful than her dad's eyes. He looks ready to attack someone at a moment's notice. Erin continues to look at Burgess, "I never got the man's name. It never came up."

Hank immediately reaches into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulls out his cell phone. There's no passcode on it and he's able to swipe and go directly to his saved photos within seconds. He clicked on the last picture saved and held it up to his daughter, "Is this him?"

She finds the strength to look at him, "Sure is." She wouldn't forget that face. He was going to be her rebound; her time to escape and her vengeance. She wouldn't forget him.

"Is he the one who did this to you?"

"No," Erin answers, assuredly. Her fingers are fiddling with each other. She's staring down at her lap, focusing on anything but her father's piercing eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

He continues to pry, "How positive?"

Erin decides to look up and finally meet his eyes, "The man who did this to me spoke to me dad!" Her eyes resemble his and the pierce within both is strong, "I heard his voice!" She speaks in confidence, "I'll never forget that voice!" Her fingers stop fiddling with each other, "That guy…Chad, he didn't do this!"

"You left the bar to hook up with him, but you were found in an alley."

"Are we really having this conversation?" She sighs, eyes rolling at the awkwardness that's about to arise from such a private and touchy topic.

Voight's eyes finally relax, "I know it's a little awkward, but we need to talk about this."

"Yes, I left Mollys' to hook up with him." Erin admits immediately. She doesn't think about her response, she just says it. If she were to spend time considering how to say it, she would never give him an answer. It's one thing to tell a detective who's a stranger, but it's a whole different story telling someone who is her father of all people.

"…then what happened?"

Erin's eyes meet Burgess. She has a small encouraging smile on her face. Erin did appreciate it. She didn't forget what her friend said to her, but for the moment, she was willing to overlook it. Erin could see comfort in her eyes and right now, during this questioning, she needed that. It worked the first time so Kim did it a second. Her hand still on Erin's thigh, she gives it another gentle, reassuring pat on. The door opens once again –she expects to see her mother- unfortunately, it's not. It's Jay. And while she's pissed at him, she still didn't want to hurt him. She watches him walk across the hospital room and her dad immediately detects the reason for her hesitance, "Hey," Voight stands up, hand still holding his daughter's hand, "Don't look at Halstead kid, just look at me."

"We made it to his car and we started making out."

"…then what?" Voight continued to push and pry. He knows it's uncomfortable and he hates himself for it, but he needs to know everything.

"Things started escalating really quickly. He wanted to practically have sex in the parking lot."

"And you didn't?"

"Dad, no… I started thinking about him," She shoves her finger in Jay's direction; her words came out in malice and the look on her husband's face isn't angry or shocked, it's loving. He still loves her and from her words, he detected the same from her. Erin drops her hand, "I couldn't do it. I was only going to do it to hurt him."

"So you called it off?"

"Yes."

"And then?"

"That's when I decided to walk to your house."

"Why didn't you go back into Mollys?"

It was the question she asked herself multiple times. That simple task would have changed the whole course of her night. It would have all been avoided. She wasn't untouchable. She wasn't impenetrable. She could get hurt just like everyone else. Knowing what happened to her, the answer to the question wasn't some big surprise or outrageous discovery. It was simple.

"I wanted the fresh air. I wanted the rain. I wanted the wind. I wanted to be alone and clear my mind." Erin admits; hating the truth in her answer.

Voight sits at the edge of her bed, "And that's when you were attacked?"

"Yeah, he came up behind me and called me ma'am…and then hit me over my head."

"How did you end up in the alley?" Voight's hand brushes a strand of hair out of her face. While the answers angered him, looking into her innocent eyes always made his guard weaken. He wasn't that great a guy, but she always made him better. She was his little girl. She was under his protection. She wasn't supposed to be harmed.

"No one was outside. He dragged me into it."

The door reopens, and Camille casually walks in, holding a tray with food placed all over it. It was piled high; almost obscuring her vision. She's walking carefully, "I'm finally back!" She's out of breath, "It was crowded down there! And I basically had to fight the lady downstairs over who would get the last jello," Camille sets the tray down, "and I won victoriously," she holds up the one cup of jello, "this is for you my darling," she turns and notices the full room of people.

There's an actual smile on Erin's face. She hated to feel pitied or helpless, and she appreciated when people treated her how they treated her before the attack. They didn't act any differently. She liked that. This –the mother she's smiling at- was how her mother is. She's all over the place, sweet, kind and absolutely gentle.

"Camille," Voight motions for his wife to tone it down; he turns back to his daughter, "Go ahead…finish please."

"He started beating and shushing me." At Erin's admittance, Camille realized the tone of the room and conversation wasn't bright. It was serious. She sat at the corner and pulled back the lid of her daughter's jello; Erin still needed to eat.

"When did you know-" Voight doesn't want to continue the question; he hates to think and talk about it; he wants to avoid it just as much as she does, "When did you know the attack was going to progress Erin?"

She takes the jello from her mother, "To him raping me? Dad, say it. That's what he did." Her mother sticks a spoon into the cup. She feels like a child.

"Yes." It's all her dad can get out.

"When he found out our relation to one another," She says slowly; feeling her father's hand drop from resting comfortably beside her head, "he got even angrier."

Voight steps back. Anger bubbling up inside his chest, stress veins appearing upon his forehead and his face turning red from the rage threatening to blow out of his ears. Hank needed to get out of here. He would do more harm than good. Just one look at her makes him want to punch the first thing that moves, and just hearing the story about what happened –and his possible connection to it- makes him want to kill something.

"Can you describe him?" He hears Halstead step up. Between the two of them, he's able to keep a leveled head. It's what makes him a great detective.

"He wore a mask and it was dark. I don't know what he looks like." Erin answers after chewing upon her jello. She's watching her mother sit in the corner quietly eating. Her eyes soon fall to her dad, pacing around while struggling to contain his anger. She looks over to Burgess next; her hand still resting comfortingly upon her thigh.

Voight pipes up, "Is there anything else you can tell me kid?"

"His voice."

Halstead approaches the side of her bed, "What about it?"

She sighs –eyes remaining on Burgess- as she answers, "I remember what it sounds like." Her eyes avert towards her mother; her calming spirit, "I'll never forget it." That's all it takes. Seconds following her last words, she hears the door slam behind her departing father. Halstead takes one last look at his wife before following behind him. There are no more words exchanged between she and her dad, and she turns back to her mom and Kim.

"I got you a turkey sandwich," her mother brings the tray over. Camille has no idea what to say. She has seen Voight like this plenty of times and it isn't good…but right now, she didn't want good, she wanted him to do what he needed to do to find the bastard who hurt her daughter.

Hank is practically running down the halls of the hospital. He's walking out of the exit, ready to get inside his truck, hit the sirens and get some answers. He's over forcing his daughter to relive that. He hated it. He hated doing that to her.

"Sarg!" Halstead shouts; running to catch up to his fleeing boss, "What are you about to do?"

"…torture someone," Hank admits; he doesn't regret his words; it's the absolute truth. With his feet still moving against the pavement, he continues, "I'm going to torture someone Halstead until I get answers. Before you ask, no I don't know who that someone is, but I'll find them." He pulls out his car keys as he sees his truck within his line of sight, "Someone is paying for this."

Jay shouts out of the blue, "Intelligence was pulled from the case!" It's part of the reason why he showed up at the hospital, another larger part was to lay eyes on his wife.

Halstead's admittance pulled Voight to a stop. Intelligence is pulled from the case; the case involving his daughter. Hank couldn't believe it. He feels forced to chuckle disbelievingly. With one short glance at the detective, he responds, "…like hell."

"I figured you would say that," Jay catches up with him, his hands tucked in his pockets as he walks…runs alongside his boss, "Will the team be in the loop?"

"I want to keep them out of this," Hank unlocks his car door. He doesn't want anyone else getting into trouble for what he's going to do to the man who hurt his daughter. He will only involve someone from the team if needed.

"You're right," Jay agrees, while sliding into the passenger seat.

Hank buckles his seat belt, "So I guess we're partners for the day."

Jay didn't want to reflect upon his boss' words. He needed to remain calm. They're partners for the day under the most horrible and heinous circumstances. With his calm disposition, Jay questions, "Where are we going?"

The sirens are turned on, and Hank pulls out of the parking spot, "To check for surveillance cameras."

"If we find some, the owners of the building they're attached to could possibly ask for a search warrant. We're technically not supposed to be on this case. How are we going to get them?"

"You underestimate my powers of persuasion Halstead."


	6. Fear Itself

Fear happens to all of us; no one is immune to the emotion that creeps its way into someone's mind, heart and soul. No one knows for sure why we're afraid of certain things; perhaps it is nature's way of preventing us from attempting things that could pose a threat to our safety and security or perhaps it's an irrational idea of what we perceive as a way to normalize ourselves; it makes us stoppable. What distinguishes between a good fear and a bad fear? Riding rollercoasters provide the same emotion as someone who is terrified of falling from heights yet the experiences are completely different. Perhaps it's the safety and security of being strapped into a rollercoaster ride vs. free falling to possibly one's imminent death. Fear can hinder one from a full, carefree life. It can prevent one from moving on after a traumatic experience; it can impact the daily life and sleep cycle of its possessor. However, regardless of what one fears, you can't let it control your life; your mind and your actions should be controlled and attempted without the added stress of fear.

Everyone experiences fear, whether it's a slight scare or a paralyzing terror; everyone experiences it. As of right now, Jay's scared; he's scared to go into his wife's hospital room, he's scared of what her reaction may be to his presence, and he's truly scared that she'll never be able to look at him again. As of today, that's Jay's biggest fear. He quietly opens the hospital room door, and pokes his head inside, "Hey," he whispers –noticing Erin's asleep, he doesn't want to wake her- yet he wants to earn Camille's attention.

She closes some novel she's reading, "Hey," she's sitting in a seat positioned beside her daughter's bed, "She's asleep."

"I can see," he says, stepping into the room, "How long has she been out?"

Camille glances down at her watch, "It's going on five hours now. Dr. Rhodes prescribed her a sleeping pill because she hasn't been getting any rest. Burgess stepped out a few minutes ago to pick us up something to eat. It's been 48 hours since we've been here. I'm tired of this hospital food already. It's pretty bland."

"Mind if I take a seat?" Jay questions, nodding his head towards Burgess' empty seat.

Camille sets her book down, "Of course…you have every right to be here as I do."

"I actually came here to update you and Erin."

"About the case?"

"Yeah," he nods, flopping down into the empty seat positioned on the opposite side of her bed, "it's not much, but it's something."

"I heard you guys were taken off the case."

"Who told you?"

The somber mother nodded her head towards a get well card situated on the end table, "Sergeant Platt came to visit this morning. She brought Erin a get well card and she filled me in."

"Yeah, people higher than Voight chose to pull Intelligence off the case."

"You're too connected," she whispers, nodding along. She knows how this all works.

"Yeah."

"So, now what?"

"Voight and I are still working it."

Her brows furrow, "but I thought-"

"When has Voight ever done as he was told, especially when it comes to you and Erin."

She smiles, "You know my husband."

"He's not just my father-in-law, he's my boss. I literally see him every single day. I was bound to pick up on something."

"Okay, so what's the update then?"

Jay remains seated, and inches the chair closer. The four legs of the chair slide against the tiled floor –skidding along- blaring screechy noises as he moved it closer to his wife's bedside. His knees were practically rubbing against the thin mattress of the hospital bed; he wanted to get even closer, but the distance he already was from his wife was pushing it. Halstead adjusts himself; he leans back, rests his arms against the armrests, and glances over Erin's body to make eye contact with her mother, "While Voight and I continue to investigate this case, the rest of the squad will continue investigating Ally and Ben –that's her boyfriend-, it'll keep the focus off of us for right now and allow me and Voight to do what needs to be done."

Camille crosses one leg over the other, "Is there any news about Erin's case specifically?" Her hands are intertwined and resting over the closed novel on her lap.

"Yesterday, we spotted one surveillance camera belonging to a corner store connected to the alley she was attacked in. We requested the footage from the owner of the store, he was tempted to refuse unless we produced a warrant, but your husband is pretty persuasive."

"What did he do?"

"Voight didn't do anything," Halstead practiced the lie he and Voight formulated, "the owner is just really clumsy."

"Is that the story you're going with?"

"We're keeping Mouse in the loop," Jay doesn't answer his mother-in-law's question; he simply continues with the details of their investigation, "We needed someone we trusted to look at the footage. That's actually what he's doing right now; he's scanning through the feed, looking for anything that could possibly help us with this case. Voight is with him as we speak."

"Why aren't you?"

"Honestly," he poses it as a question and groans the moment she nods her head, "I can't watch it. I can't look at that. I just can't."

Camille's eyes fall to her sleeping daughter –she sighs- before averting them back to Jay, "I highly doubt Hank is watching it."

"I can't be in the room with that video. I don't trust myself." His eyes fall to the thin sheet covering Erin's body. It's hard for him to talk with her mother about this. She reminded him of Erin so much right now; her dimples, her brunette hair, and even some of her mannerisms. It sometimes feels like he's talking to his wife. His eyes remain on the threaded fabric of the sheet –his fingers pick at the loose strands- he's struggling to express himself, "If I'm there, I might look at it. I don't know what's on the video, but I can't look at that; it's possible it recorded everything and it's also possible that it recorded nothing, but I don't want to take the chance."

"What are you expecting to get from it? I thought he was wearing a mask."

Halstead shrugs his shoulders, "...there's a lot of things we can get; physical build, estimated height and weight, how and when he got there, whether he left on foot or in a car and what direction he left in afterwards. It's a lot. There's a lot this surveillance video can provide."

The two are quieted the second Erin shifts in bed. She rolls from her back and onto her side. Her face is facing the direction of her husband, but her eyes remain closed. She's still asleep. Halstead removes his fingers from the loose thread of the sheet, and he pulls the thin covering up to cover her shoulders. After rolling onto her side, the sheets fell down below her torso; revealing the wrinkled white and blue hospital gown.

"How is she doing?" Jay stares at the rise and fall of his wife's chest; it's comforting to hear her breathing, it's relieving to know that at the end of the day she's alive and progressing well.

"The tests ran good." Camille unfolds her legs, and sets her book down upon the side table, "As of today she isn't pregnant. Yesterday she took the plan b pill just to make sure, and she's taking it all one day at a time."

"I wanted to be here."

Camille rises to her feet, "I know you did."

"…but did she?"

His mother-in-law walks around the bed, and stands next to her seated son-in-law. As the two stare at Erin's sleeping face, she responds, "I'm sure she knows. And I'm sure she understands," she squeezes Jay's shoulder reassuringly, "I know Erin pretty well," she sends Halstead a small smile, "And I truly believe she would want you out there, investigating this and finding him. She wouldn't want you hovering over her…that's what mothers are for."

"It's been two days and we have no leads. We don't even have a suspect."

"Hey," Camille grips Jay's chin and urges him to look in her direction, "there is no doubt in my mind that you'll catch him; I mean, have you met my husband? He doesn't give up. He'll never drop this. I'm not the hovering wife who's going to breathe down her husband's neck pressuring him to find this bastard because I know Hank…I know you. You both will do whatever it takes. You'll need more than two days Jay. You've solved harder cases than this. You'll find him. You'll catch him. And you'll make him pay. There isn't any doubt in my mind about that."

Erin shifts once more in her bed –rolling back onto her back- the covers remained in place. The casual squirming and the pained expressions that occasionally graced her face hinted to the unpleasant dreams that formed in her mind. Her mother wanted to wake her, but she desperately needed sleep. Sleeping is the time where your body is able to regroup and heal itself. Jay takes a hold of Erin's hand; he's hoping that if she woke up, she didn't immediately retract it from his grasp. It was hard to investigate this case knowing that his wife is in the hospital angry at him. His elbows lean onto the bed, and he presses her hand against his lips, "Why did this have to happen? Why did it have to be her? Hasn't she suffered enough?" His voice loudly cracks; it's weak and it's pained. It's an unavoidable cry. Tears begin trickling out of his eyes, down his cheeks and eventually rolling off of his face, landing on the edge of her bed.

"Jay, I don't know what to tell you," Camille remains standing by his side.

"…but you know everything."

"No," she's shaking her head; she didn't think her heart could break even more, but it did, "I don't know everything. No one does."

"Erin says you do," he repeats the words his wife has spoken to him countless times throughout their relationship. If she didn't know something, she went to her mother because her mother knows everything. It was her words…not his.

"Every person thinks their mom knows everything. I don't though."

"I just," his eyes are puffy and his face is red, "I just love her so much."

She squeezes his shoulder once again, "I know you do…and I'm sorry that I doubted that."

"I didn't cheat on her."

"I know you didn't."

"I also didn't run after her…" his voice trails off; feeling the weight of blame lie upon his shoulders. It's all he could think about. He brushes her hand off his shoulder; he doesn't deserve the comfort of Erin's mother; her daughter was here because of him. Jay sniffs, "How do I even attempt to get her to forgive me when I can't even forgive myself? I'm scared that this is irreparable. I'm scared that this is the start of the end of our marriage."

"None of this is your fault; trust me, and no matter how many times I tell you that, you'll have to come to that conclusion on your own. And marriage takes work…a lot of it, trust me on that too. You think being married to Hank Voight is ever easy; that's a job in itself. Just talk to her."

His thumb rubs gently across the back of Erin's hand, "When is she supposed to be released?" He clears his voice and speaks as if he wasn't crying moments ago.

"…the day after tomorrow," Camille answers, walking back over to her seat. She sits and crosses one leg over the other.

"Is Erin coming home?"

"If by home you mean with me, then yes."

Jay's eyes look up –he's skeptical- his voice mutters, "Is that a good idea?"

"It's nothing against you," she assures, crossing her arms and leaning her back against the chair, "it's just right now she needs someone who can take care of her."

Jay continues to rub his thumb across the back of Erin's hand –his eyes focused on her mother- he's confused. Erin is his wife; she should come home with him, not her. If she moves out, it'll do more harm than good to their marriage. He can be there with her, helping her through her recovery while working to repair the mistakes he made in their marriage. He's insulted. Camille comforted him and now she's implying that he isn't good enough to take care of her daughter.

"I can take care of her," he speaks in confidence. If it's one thing he knows for sure, it's that he can take care of his wife. He can be there for her every step of the way.

"You're investigating her case. That should be your main focus."

"I can multitask," he pleads. He's trying, really hard. He needs for her to understand.

"She needs attention that you can't give her right now."

"Let me try. She's my wife!"

"And she's my daughter," Camille retorted; eyes drawing to her daughter as she shifts once again. Her body rolled to the side and faced Halstead's direction once more. Camille crossed her arms and furrowed her brows at the insistent look on her son-in-law's face, "And have you forgotten that right now Erin wants nothing to do with you?"

"You're right," he gives in; almost too easily. He knows it's the truth. How can he take care of someone who despises him? How can he care after someone who doesn't even want to speak to him? How is he even supposed to care for a woman who can barely look at him?

Camille hated the look that crossed his face; it was a look of realization, but with the awareness came along the emotions that connected with it. Jay did need to focus on this case, but that didn't mean he would focus any less on Erin. They were partners in life; they were best friends and a married couple. The connection they shared was impenetrable. No one could break it. Nothing could shatter it. He wouldn't allow this of all things to ruin the greatest person in his life; his wife. Her hand is warmly clasped between his, and he whispers, "Can you talk to her on my behalf? Please," he pushes aside his pride and asks Camille for help, "She'll listen to you."

"I don't know if I should-"

"Please," he begs, looking up dreadfully to meet her eyes, "I'm desperate."

"You try first," she notices Erin stir in her sleep; her daughter's eyes creasing.

"I will," he hears Erin groan, knowing she'll be waking up soon, "but if it doesn't work-"

She nods, "I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks."

"I like you Jay. I'm rooting for the two of you. Just be honest with her."

Seconds after Camille's comforting words, Halstead feels Erin's hand immediately yank from his hold. She's frowning at him; scowling and confused. She looks over her shoulder and sees her mother is sitting there –looking at her- Erin doesn't get it. She doesn't know what she's missed, but from the time she fell asleep with Burgess and her mom in the room, there was a swap out with Kim leaving and Jay taking her place. Erin pushes herself up into a sitting position, "What's going on? What are you doing here?"

Camille nods for Jay to speak. This was his opportunity. He swallows his fear, and answers her question, "I came to talk to you."

"Are you here to ask me more questions?"

He shakes his head, "I'm not here as a detective. I'm here as your husband."

"…well then I'm screwed."

Her comment hurts him –it burns deep in his heart- he'll definitely be thinking about that tonight. He thinks about everything she says to him; it's hard not to.

"I just want to talk to you."

"Some things are just better left unsaid." Her words are calm; she isn't screaming like he imagined she would. She's relaxed. She's not even nervous or on edge; that's good.

"I agree, some things are better left unsaid, but then again, that just isn't my style." Jay rises to his feet and approaches her bedside closely, "I love you." They're three words that mean everything. The emotion in them lets her know it's real; it's what he truly feels, but she can't gather the strength and the compassion to forgive him.

"…sometimes that isn't enough."

"Don't do this;" he feels his eyes glaze over as tears form within them. He's trying to remain strong, and he feels Camille's eyes averting back and forth between he and her daughter. Jay thinks about his next words carefully before he proceeds to speak, "Don't give up on us. Life without you Erin isn't life at all. I can't just give up on this. Our relationship is worth fighting for; I truly believe that. Before I met you," a grin breaks out on his saddened face, "I never knew what it was like to smile for no reason."

"Are you done?" Her face is stoic –it reminds him of Voight's frustrated expressions- it's a bit unnerving. She looks inexpressive; she's emotionally detaching herself from the conversation. Erin doesn't want to feel a thing.

"Erin-"

"If you're done," she interrupts; a sternness in her voice that shows her seriousness, "then you can leave. I'm pretty sure you have something better to do."

"No, I don't. You're first. You're my top priority."

She actually laughs sarcastically; shaking her head at his comment, "That's funny you should say that. I'm first, I'm your top priority, but I wasn't that night. She came first that night. Damage control came close to second. I was lucky if I even made your top five."

"That isn't true Erin and you know that. You know the truth. You believe it; you're just hurting right now and with good reason. You need someone to blame and I'm okay with that, but just let me be here for you. Let me help you…it's what you need."

"I sincerely apologize to you Jay. I did not realize you were such an expert on my life." She looks over to her mother; her eyes pleading with the older woman, begging her, "Please get him out of here mom. Please."

"Alright Jay," Camille rises to her feet, waving her son-in-law over. He gave it his best shot and Erin wasn't ready yet. She respected her daughter's wishes; she didn't need the added stress of Jay hanging around. She asked her politely to make him leave and she's her mother first, and his mother-in-law second. Her loyalties will always lie with her daughter.

"Can I just say one last thing," he implores; he doesn't want to stress her out. If she truly wants him to leave, then he will. He won't argue. It may hurt, but he'll do as she request.

Her arms cross, "What is it?"

"I love you babe," he admits what they already know, "and every time I see you, I just want to hold you in my arms and never let go, but I know I can't because you're angry at me. And you have every right to be. It's just…this isn't just hard for you. It's hard for all of us. And if I had the power to rewind time and change things, I would. I would give anything to change the past, but I can't. All I can try to do is change the future. I'm going to catch him. I promise you that. And I'm not giving up on us. I promise you that too."

Camille walks him to the door –opens it- gives him a side wink before shutting it behind him. The two hear the click of the door as it closes all the way. She inhales a deep breath –contemplating to herself how to even slide her opinion into the conversation- she doesn't want Erin shutting down; that was a huge risk she was taking. Camille was the last one that Erin fully trusted as of today. She couldn't lose that; she was scared…terrified of betraying that trust by having Erin even think there's a chance she's siding with Jay over her.

"Where's Kim?" Erin speaks up; acting as if the previous conversation between she and Jay never occurred. She leans over and picks up her cup of water, "Did she ditch me again? It wouldn't be the first time." She takes a small, almost nonexistent sip of water to loosen her dry and sensitive throat.

"She went to pick up food." Camille answers with her back to her. Her face in deep thought. Erin can read her like a book and right now she didn't want that.

"Oh good," Erin sighs; finally relaxing after much needed slumber, "because I'm starving."

Camille turns around to face her, "Erin-"

"Mom, don't defend him." Her daughter doesn't surprise her. She immediately registers her mom's expression and reads her face like an opened book.

Her mother begins, "Bad things are going to happen in life."

"Don't you dare," the look on her daughter's face shifts; the calmness of it breaks and fear itself takes over, "You can't defend him."

"People will hurt you, but you can't use that as an excuse to hurt someone back."

"You're MY mother," Erin points at herself as she yells; "not his! You can't take his side!"

"I'm not taking his side. I'll never take his side over yours." Camille rushes across the room, and immediately takes a seat on the edge of the bed, "you think I know everything," she states it as if it's fact and continues without the interruption of her daughter, "but I need you to trust that I know this. I wouldn't risk you getting hurt again. He's far from perfect…just like the rest of us. It's okay to forgive him sweetheart. It's okay."

Erin's face contorts into a mixture of fear and anger. She's scared to let her guard down; she's absolutely terrified. The moment you let your guard down, you get hurt. And people have a way of getting hurt the most by those they love and trust. She can't control the furrow of her brows, the heartbreak on her face and the trembling of her bottom lip as she tries to suppress her tears, "You think I like this!" She fails to control her cries; loud wails erupt as a result, "You think I enjoy feeling this way! Because I don't mom," She has never cried so much in her life. She has never been that type of person. Yes, she cried for the big things like death, sometimes heartbreak and possibly injury, but other times she had ways of suppressing it all in.

"I know you don't enjoy the feeling. I know that-"

Erin interrupts her, "I'm trying really hard to not let the pain of the past stop me from giving my heart away in the future. I don't want to be mad. I don't want to be stuck in this place. I don't want to be sad and scared. I don't want any of this, but I can't control it. I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for any of it! I obviously have to come to terms with the consequences of what happened and so should he. He should have some responsibility and if none of you remind him of that, then I will. I can't forgive him. If he had just stopped me, he could have said something, he could have called after me, but he didn't. He let me yell at him, he made me look like a fool and then he let me leave! It's his fault mommy. I'm content with thinking that because if I don't blame him and dad, then I'll blame myself."

"If you truly love someone Erin, you'll forgive the unforgivable."

"…then maybe I never loved him."

"Erin-"

She interrupts, "Mom, I'm done talking about this."

"Erin just-"

"I said I'm done."

Camille pleads with her daughter once more, "I'm just looking out for your best interests."

"Get out."

"Sweetheart-"

"I SAID GET OUT!"


	7. Left Alone

Loneliness is a mental and physical idea of the mind and body that delves deeper than one truly realizes. You desire company, but from someone who will truly understand you and what you're going through. You can feel alone in a room full of people; you can mentally isolate yourself to block out their presence. You feel like no one is there for you regardless of what they say. While you can physically be surrounded by endless and devoted loved ones, mentally you're someplace else; thinking of anything besides the reason they're here. You can feel isolated in a situation; if no one experienced the same traumatic event as you, that one significant incident can separate you from others. What gives them the right to advise you on how you should feel, how you should act and what you should do to get better if they've never been through it themselves? No one knows what you're going through. No one feels what you feel. No one can save you; you'll have to save yourself. No one can take back what happened; you'll eventually have to learn to cope with it. No one else can make it all better. And since no one can help and do it for you, you're forced to do it yourself, dredging up that feeling of loneliness. You hear what they're saying, but their eyes contradict them. You look into them for comfort, but that's not what you find; you see pity, you see hope and you see fear. It scares you; so you do what you know best, you push away what alarms you, however if you continue to push everyone away, there's always that possibility that they'll never come back. And in the end, you're left alone with nothing and no one but your thoughts, your emotions and your fears. We came into this world by ourselves, we'll suffer through life by ourselves and eventually we'll leave it by ourselves.

Picture a movie or television show; this seems to happen a lot in them, when you see a person in a highly populated city, standing on a sidewalk –completely still and unmoving- as the people surrounding them rush by, absolutely oblivious to their presence. The person standing frozen doesn't notice the fast moving people swarming around as they stare forward and focus on why they're here, why they're feeling this way and why they must suffer alone. She's watching the world go by –it doesn't stop just because of something like this- and there's nothing you can do about it. You want it to slow down and recover with you, but it's impossible. She's alone physically and she's experiencing loneliness mentally. It's not that they don't care –she knows that- it's just that they won't understand you or what you're feeling and going through no matter how many books they read, how she tries to explain it and what the new psychological study says today about victims of traumatic incidents.

Erin was left alone, due to her own insistence and stubbornness to refuse help. She didn't need it. Last night, she kicked her mother out and the moment Burgess returned, she kicked her out too; the food she brought with her completely forgotten. The only company she had was the occasional nurses stepping in and out of her room to check on her. They were just doing their jobs; they didn't visit her out of true concern. Last night, the nurse gave her another sleeping pill. Erin was forced to sleep alone in an empty room. Unbeknownst to her, her mother slept in an uncomfortable chair in the waiting room. She couldn't leave the hospital. In the early morning when Camille woke up, she was in desperate need of coffee. She tossed and turned all night in the hard chairs and she could barely stay asleep for more than an hour at a time.

"Mrs. Voight," she hears Dr. Halstead approach her as she silently fixes her coffee, "Is everything okay? What's wrong?"

Camille stirs in the cream –eyes moistening from tears- she sniffs, "So there is this girl; she's beautiful and she's sweet and she calls me mom, but I don't feel like her mom right now. I don't feel like a mom at all. Moms help. Moms comfort. Moms are strong, and I'm crying. I'm sitting in a waiting room –alone- crying my eyes out." She presses a lid down onto her coffee.

"Where's your husband?"

She takes a small sip of the hot beverage, "He stayed with me last night, but he left early this morning. He's more helpful at work."

"If there is anything I-"

She cuts him off, "What's the status of my daughter's rape kit? I haven't heard anything about it." Camille didn't want to spend this time talking about her feelings and being comforted.

Dr. Halstead follows her towards a seat, and sits down next to her, "It's no longer under our care. It's been sent out to a crime lab. It's not processed here. I do want you to be aware of what many call a rape kit backlog. There are hundreds of thousands of rape kits sitting untested in evidence storage. States are trying to get better at the backlogging but it's still a problem. Sexual assaults are a high reported crime especially in big cities and rape kits are taken all the time. The whole system is backed up and the city may lack the funds and personnel to process them all. It's a problem, and I'm informing you of it so you won't be surprised if you hear nothing back immediately if at all. It may get tested, it may not, but hopefully if this guy is caught or a suspect is captured, they'll rush the process in order to find evidence linking him to the attack."

She looks to the left and meets his eyes, "The system is stupid."

"…many people argue it is," he agrees, patting her shoulder comfortingly.

"What good is forcing a rape victim to undergo the trauma that's involved in exposing themselves and their vulnerability in being swabbed, photographed, picked and prodded for a rape kit that we all assume will be processed when really all it's going to do is sit in a storage room, locked away collecting cobwebs? That doesn't make any sense."

Dr. Halstead sympathized for the saddened mother. He had spoken to his brother the night before and none of them were processing what happened to Erin good. Voight's burying himself in work, his brother is assisting him and Camille honestly doesn't know what to do with her time. She didn't work. She had no kids at home. She has free time that she wants to spend helping Erin, but that seemed impossible because her daughter didn't want her help.

"How is Erin?" Will asks curiously; he had plans to visit her today and he wanted to be prepared for whatever mood he may possibly walk into.

"My daughter has some pretty thick skin," Camille is speaking out; she's not looking at him, she's just looking forward, talking to no one in particular, "She cries, of course, it just takes a lot to make her. And this…this is a lot…and I can't do anything about it."

"I'll go check on her for you. Natalie wanted to come with me anyway."

In the brightly lit room, Erin's sobs could be heard echoing off the walls. It made her feel even more alone. She didn't know what she wanted. Since she woke up this morning, she had been a victim to her thoughts; she was her own worst enemy, but even with knowing that, she couldn't avoid it. Erin kicks off the covers, and steps out of bed. The only time she's allowed to get up is when she's going to the restroom. She didn't have to go, but she needed to stretch her legs. The ache between her thighs sunk her heart into the hollow and empty pit of her stomach. It hurt. Her bare feet stepped further and further away from the bed –with no destination in mind- she just walked. She walked around the room until her eyes focused on the window; the curtains were closed. Erin would be discharged tomorrow and maybe fresh air and sunshine was something she needed. She needed to get out of this hospital gown, do something to her hair, add makeup to her face and neck to cover the bruising…maybe if she hides any sign of her attack, the thought and memory will go away. With every scrape, bruise, swollen limb and ache, there was a reminder and story hidden beneath it. Until they heal, they'll always serve as a reminder.

"What are you doing out of bed?" She hears a graceful voice –it scares her- not because it's intimidating, but for the simple reason of it catching her off guard. Erin turns on her heel and sees Dr. Manning. She calms at the sight of Dr. Halstead standing beside her.

"I can't sit in that bed anymore," Erin admits, pulling the curtains open, "I feel like a prisoner and I did nothing wrong. I just want to go home."

Natalie approaches her, "I hear you're being released tomorrow."

"It can't come soon enough," she confesses, pressing the palm of her hands against the window, "I just want to go back to my life. I want to go back to work…if I still have a job. I want to do the simple things again that I took for granted. It's only been three days but I'm done looking at the boring and bland white walls. They're depressing."

Natalie throws her arm over Erin's shoulders; she rests her head upon her own. The two are looking out of the window –staring at the clear sky- embracing in the noise of city traffic. Natalie notices the gaze in Erin's eye, she's picturing something; imagining a possibility and the doctor picks up on it. She quietly asks, "What's the first thing you're going to do when you're free?"

Erin sighs, "…now it really sounds like prison."

"Are you going to go straight home?" Will inserts himself into the conversation; approaching Erin on the opposite side of Natalie, "Or maybe grab outside food? What about a movie?"

"It all sounds so fun. I want to do all of that."

"Nothing will be stopping you," Natalie reminds; her eyes falling to the cars driving along the road. Loud horns are blaring through the city; it's a Monday, and it's approaching the end of rush hour. People are desperately trying to get back to work.

"That's where you're wrong," Erin chuckles dryly, she shakes her head at their obliviousness, "Three unstoppable forces will prevent me from doing that and their names are Hank, Camille and Jay. I know they're not letting me out of their sight until this guy is caught."

Natalie tries to focus on the positive, "That gives you something to look forward to when he is captured." Her cheerful attitude and mood drew a loud groan from Erin.

"What if he isn't though? They can't lock me away forever."

"I wouldn't be surprised if your dad is capable of doing that," Will nudges her side gently, his eyes now staring out of the window.

Erin didn't laugh at his joke, but she did crack a smile. The idea of 'freedom' put her in a calmer mood; she just needed to be patient for the next few hours. This time tomorrow she will be on her way home. She just has to get through today and then she's home free. As Natalie's arm around her shoulders drop, she remembers their presence; however she was unaware of their reason for even visiting her. She turns away from the window and faces the two doctors, suspiciously eyeing them up and down, "What brings you two here anyway?"

"We work here," Will answers; brow raised high in confusion.

"No, I mean, what brings you two here," she points towards the floor, "in this room."

"We wanted to see how you were doing." Natalie answers, earning an eye roll from Erin.

Erin figures, "On behalf of whom?"

"Ourselves," Natalie answered in assurance; no one had to beg or force them to come. They consider her as a close friend; family, and nothing would have prevented them from stopping by, "We stayed informed on your physical recovery. We waited a few days because we didn't want to overwhelm you. We know you probably got tons of visitors."

"Sure did," she nods.

She's beginning to realize why they don't want her walking around too often. Her legs are tired and sore. Natalie reads the look on Erin's face as she drags herself back to bed, "You don't seem pleased." Will helps Erin lie back down, propping her legs up on the bundled up covers.

"It's just when they visit, it's different faces but the same conversation." Erin admitted in exhaustion; standing up really took a toll on her body, "They tell me they're sorry, they're here for me, if I need anything ask them, and the occasional they'll keep me in their prayers. I needed a different type of conversation."

Will cracks another joke, -attempting to loosen the thick atmosphere in the room-, "I'm pretty sure your dad adds flavor to it."

"He probably would if he visited me," She acts unbothered; she's hiding her true emotion over the comment she made.

Will moves closer, "What?"

"He barely sees me and I can't blame him."

"Erin-" Natalie starts until the woman in question cuts her off.

"I don't need to be cheered up." Erin asserted, forced eye contact between she and the doctor. She wanted them to listen. She wanted them to take her words seriously. Her gaze shifts from Natalie to Will and then back to the previous doctor, "I get it." She nods insistently, "I'm no longer his pure and untainted daughter. When he looks at me I know he thinks that because I think it too. There's bad in me. He sees it and so do I."

They're taking turns to respond –it's Will's turn- he gives Natalie a nod of the head before replying, "I'm sure that's not why he hasn't been by recently."

"He's angry at me for letting this happen and I'm angry with him because it's practically his fault that it did. We have that in common; our anger. He doesn't want to see me and I don't want to see him either. It's perfectly fine."

The room falls quiet –the mood of the conversation completely shifted- she's ready to be alone again. Erin hears a vibration and watches as Natalie digs into her white pocket, "I'm being paged."

"…go." Erin waves; smiling kindly and thanking her with her eyes. It was the least she could do.

"Alright," she squeezes Erin's shoulder, "I'll visit you before my shift is over. And don't give up on Hank Voight just yet. That man loves you with every part of his being. He may not be here but I'm sure there's a reason for that. I have to go," she jogs out of the room.

Another silence surrounds them. She's looking forward –ignoring Will's presence beside her-she's picturing herself alone in the room. Sometimes being left alone is good. Sometimes it's needed for the soul. Right now, she wished she had it.

"Erin-" He begins after formulating what he desperately wanted to say.

"Will, I have a bag of change of clothes that I'm not allowed to change into until I'm released." She points at the duffle bag sitting across the room –it's in her line of sight and she's forced to stare at it- it has been there for at least two days. Erin pulls her eyes away from it, and looks over at him, "This hospital really loves to remind me that I'm a patient here. No offense, but this place has a way of keeping me down."

"I keep telling them to paint the walls yellow." He gives in to her purposefully changing the subject. He didn't want to force her into talking about anything. It didn't work for Jay so he knew it wouldn't work for himself.

She shrugs, "…it'll definitely brighten it up."

By the end of her last statement, the door opens, followed by loud giggles as Gaby, Stella and Sylvie walk into the room. Will excuses himself, gives her a comforting pat on the head before making up some excuse about having to check on a patient. He didn't want to swarm Erin. Two visitors was one thing; three was pushing it and four was a complete smother. He shut the door behind him and walked down the hospital's corridor. Camille was still in the waiting room, exerting the energy she earned from the coffee by pacing circles around the coffee table.

"Mrs. Voight," he called out; earning the whip of her head turning in his direction.

"Will! How is she? Does she need me? Is she okay?"

"She's managing…"

Camille ran up to him, "What does that even mean?"

"She's ready to get out of here and I can't blame her." Will tucked his hands into the pockets of his white doctor's coat, "I'm not trying to pry or anything, but can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," Camille nods, tugging the young doctor towards a seat, "Anything."

"Where's Mr. Voight? I know he left for work, but why hasn't he been back to see her?" He takes a seat and she follows by sitting beside him.

"He has seen her."

"Once?"

Camille thought to herself briefly, before nodding her head slowly, "Yes…oh gosh," her hand slams into her forehead, "What did she say?"

"Don't repeat me. I don't want her thinking she can't trust me."

"Okay, you have my word. Now, what did my daughter say?"

Will turns his body to face her, "She thinks he's angry with her for allowing this to happen. She blames him too. She thinks that when he looks at her he sees her impurity."

"…that's ridiculous."

"Not to her," Dr. Halstead argued, rising to his feet, "to Erin it all makes sense; to Erin the hope she has in people is barely existent and to Erin, she feels like she can't trust anyone and wouldn't put it past her own father to abandon her in her time of need."

"I don't understand," Camille admits; hands covering her face in defeat, "I try to be there for her and she pushes me away. I try to give her space and she acts like no one has her back. I'm trying everything Dr. Halstead and now I'm looking like an unfit mother because my daughter's alone in her room, crying about no one being there for her while healing from a traumatizing attack. I honestly don't know what to do anymore. I don't understand."

"You're not trained to understand. What happened to getting Dr. Charles involved?"

Camille answers, "He was going to starts sessions with her after she's discharged."

"…maybe you should talk with him now. Why wait?"

"Why wait?" she repeats his last words –eyes closed in thought- and seconds following, her eyes open up and avert towards the doctor, "Take me to his office."

Erin listened to the chattering voices of her friends; they were trying to take her mind off of what happened. She didn't have to do most of the talking. She just listened to them talk and gossip about work, relationships and dispatch calls. She zoned in and out; nodding occasionally to signify that she was listening. Their eyes are beaming; holding the emotion of a happy and carefree individual. She remembers feeling that way; joining in on their laughs, talks and complaints with absolutely no worries or concerns in the world. She was like that. She was like them…and just like that, she wasn't.

Gaby waved her hand in front of Erin's face, "Earth to Erin…" she continues to wave it.

"Huh," She responds; blinking out of her reverie.

"We wanted to know if you were alright." Stella answered, taking a seat against the ledge of the small hospital bed.

"Why would I be?"

Sylvie bites her bottom lip –she knew this wasn't a good idea- she looks to her two colleagues, "…maybe we should leave."

"Yeah," Erin whips her head in the direction of the paramedic, "maybe you should."

"We're your friends," Gaby attempted to get through to the young lawyer; "We're here for you. You could have come to us at any time. Why didn't you tell us what you were going through?"

"You know my name Gaby, not my life story!" Erin reminded the firefighter; she was clearly irritated and completely ready for them to get out, "It was never a secret, just none of your damn business!" She considered them as friends –nothing more and nothing less- and if she were to confess any feelings or speculations (about her husband's non affair) it would be with Burgess, not them. They were good people to go bar hopping with; not particularly good at sharing secrets with though. Erin appreciated their visit, but they all knew they've overstayed their welcome.

Stella stands, "We'll just get out of your hair."

"…much appreciated," Erin gives them a slight wave of the hand.

"Oh," the thought immediately hits Stella and she turns on her heel, "We got you something to pass the time," she reaches into her large purse and pulls out a booklet, "it's an adult coloring book. It's the new thing now. It's pretty interesting. You should give it a try."

Stella sets the book down along the end table. She gives Erin a nod of the head after she gave the firefighter a smile of gratitude and appreciation. The silence in the room was welcomed the moment they left. There is a good chance that being left alone isn't so bad after all. It gives you time to think. It provides a silence that's calming and reassuring to the mind; it's soothing to the soul. It's all around welcomed and cherished…until it's ruined once again.

"Hey kiddo," she hears Herman greet from the doorway –his wife alongside him holding flowers- he shuts the door quietly behind him, "We just ran into the ladies on our way in. I know you want to rest so we'll be quick."

"It seems everyone is squeezing in their 'visit Erin' time today," she brushes it off, accepting the get well flowers from his wife, "Thank you so much." She gave the older woman a dimpled grin.

His wife responded, "We hope you like them. Jay recommended them."

Erin brings the white roses up against her nose and inhales the scent. Her eyes close as she embraces the stems of the white roses; her favorite. They're appealing to the eye yet not the stereotypical shade of roses one would normally envision. They're absolutely beautiful. When she reopens her eyes, she sees the couple. They're not paying any attention to her; their focused on each other. His wife has a headache and he's worried. It's a simple, mild headache, yet Herman is filled with concern and anxiety. His hand is pressed against the back of her head as he whispers questions of concern to her; she's nodding or shaking her head no accordingly. He wants to take her home, help her relax and be there for whatever she needs…all because of a simple headache. It's sweet; it's adorable. Erin could only wish that she could drop the walls she personally built around herself to let someone in; someone like her husband, but when she saw him, she could only think about that night. She didn't want that. She didn't want for her attack to be the first thought that appeared in her head at the sight and mention of Jay. She didn't want for his name to be associated with her assault. And until she can get past that, she'll be stuck –alone- physically and mentally. It'll just be her, surrounded by people visiting only to soothe their egos and make themselves feel better.

"Your mother said you're being released tomorrow," Herman temporarily leaves his wife's side and approaches the bedside of Erin, "If you don't mind, I'll probably check in on you occasionally…that's if it's okay with you."

"Why?"

"…just to see how you're doing." He didn't understand her question.

"You're doing it to ease your guilt." She states matter-of-factly. She calls it like she sees and hears it. It's simple. She and Herman barely speak outside of Mollys. Erin adjusts the loosening bandage around her forehead, "Don't deny it. We both know it's true. And you don't have to do that. I don't blame you. You're not responsible."

"I keep telling him that," His wife places her hand against his upper arm.

"I shouldn't have let you go," he admits; averting his eyes quickly between Erin and his wife, "I keep picturing you being my little girl and I would hold myself responsible. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. You were obviously upset about something. You were intoxicated. You left with a stranger. I should have forced you into a taxi…or at least called your dad. Instead, I just watched you go. You left and I didn't even think twice about it."

"Are you trying to convince me you're partly to blame?" Erin quirks a brow, mouth set in a straight-line "if so, it's working."

Herman's wife takes a hold of her husband's hand, "How about we get out of here? I lied; my head is really killing me." She's trying to extinguish any flames of emotions that may rise.

"Watching you go and knowing what happened feels just as bad as if I did it myself."

Erin dry laughs at his confession, "I highly doubt that."

"I'm ready to go Herman," she repeats, arms crossing over her chest.

"I am sorry Erin."

She bends her legs –pulling them towards her- arms surrounding them as she rests her chin upon her knees, "I don't blame you Herman so stop trying to take some of it. It's already reserved for the people I personally hold responsible. So, save your apologies and help your wife out."

Herman gave her a soft smile as his wife began dragging him out of the room. She successfully managed to pull him to the hallway and Erin sighs in relief once again at the isolated atmosphere in the room. She's alone with only herself and her thoughts. It's just her. She looks around and drops her legs. She needed to stretch them again and while doing so, she wanted to look outside; envision herself in the freedom of the outside world. Behind her, she hears the door creak open.

"Did you forget something Herman," she questions, eyes gazing along the empty streets outside.

"Wrong guy," a nervous voice sputtered a laugh; the recognition in the voice pulls her around to face him; face the source of her argument with Kim.

"Did my mother gather a group meeting in the waiting room? Is she sending you all in one after the other? Let me guess who's next…" she taps her chin –masking her true emotion with humor- she steps closer to him, "Is it my dad? No, he would have been first. Jay? Nope, I highly doubt that one. Hmm, Olinsky, Atwater, Dawson, Mouse…let me know when I get it right."

"Erin, no one called me here."

"So, why are you here Ruzek?" The humor in her voice is lost. She's serious –mouth tugging into a straight line- waiting to hear what he has to say.

"Kim is your best friend and she loves you…and I love her."

"You're here to speak with me on her behalf." Erin isn't stupid; she puts it together. She continues to approach her best friend's boyfriend, "This is between me and Kimberly."

"What's your problem with me Erin? When we first met, you were cool. You were funny and we saw each other as friends! What changed? What did I do?"

Erin bit against her bottom lip. She knew this conversation would happen eventually; not while she was recovering in the hospital, but soon enough after the blowout over him between her and Kim occurred. She's closing the distance between them; inches apart.

"Let me sum this up Adam," her arms are crossed and her brows are furrowed angrily, "You cheated to get her; you'll cheat to get rid of her. She started out as the other woman, so she'll never be the only woman."

"Wendy and I were never going to work out," he attempted to defend.

"She was still your fiancée," her finger shoves into his hard chest, "Kim is fragile. She's emotional and her heart breaks easily. Keep that in mind before you do to her what you did to so many other women."

"You broke her heart," he retorts; stepping away from her shoving pointer finger. It actually hurt.

"…that's different and you are not going to change the subject and switch this around on me," Erin hollered; voice uncontrollably cracking due to the soreness, not the emotion, "I don't want to hear that you love her and you won't cheat! I want you to be real with me Ruzek! Don't hurt her. You might mess up her chances with the guy who really does love and care about her."

Ruzek's muscled arms press against the wall –his forehead also resting against it- he's been stressed. Ever since Erin's attack, Burgess could hardly look at him. She barely spoke to him. By looking at him, she remembers her argument with Erin, and then she inevitably remembers the attack against her. This assault, it doesn't just affect one person; it indirectly affects others. It's like a chain event; a domino effect. One domino falls and others proceed to be knocked over as well. He needs for Erin to forgive her; forgive Kim for something she didn't need forgiveness for; he needed for Kim to forgive herself for something that wasn't her fault. Blame was being pointed in all different directions where the person who is actually to blame is free; he's living his life with loved ones and friends not giving a care about the lives he just ruined.

Adam sucks in a large breath and then releases it, "I want to propose," he gets it out in one breath, "I want Burgess to be my wife. I want what you and Jay have. I want it all with her."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"…because you're like a sister to her. It would make her day if I had your approval."

"My approval shouldn't matter," Erin sighs –noticing in her peripheral vision the door open- she ignores it as she approaches Ruzek, "You both are adults. I can't stop you regardless of how I feel. And right now the last thing I'm thinking about is giving you my approval." She notices Dr. Charles enter the room and casually take a seat in the chair beside her bed, "If you desperately need it though, you don't have it. You need to do some growing up. I wish I had."

"Thanks for your support," he grumbles disappointedly –nodding his head towards the doctor- and then showing himself out. He doesn't try to argue; he blames it on her emotional state. The Erin he knew before would have been happy; she would have pushed her feelings to the side and approved of the proposal if she knew that's what Burgess would have wanted. She wouldn't have allowed her selfish emotions to impact Kim's happiness; that's why Adam didn't argue, he knew that wasn't like Erin, he knew she directly wasn't to blame. He knew that's not how she really felt; he blamed the attack and her attacker.

Erin pushed the door shut –pressed her forehead against it- sighed and smiled. One hand is wrapped around the knob and the other lays flat against the door frame; she groans, "I was wondering when they were going to send the shrink in." She steps away from the door and turns around, "I'm fine."

Dr. Charles' voice is calm and soothing; there's a nonjudgmental look on his face. He's relaxed and he's all ears, "You've been through a traumatic experience-"

"And I'm perfectly fine…" She interrupts.

"I would be worried if that were true."

"You can go Dr. Charles. You're just wasting your time."

"I doubt that."

"What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?"

He clasp his hands together, "…talk to me."

She grins. She can read people pretty good if you were to ask anyone who may know her. Psychologists were included in the category, at least Dr. Charles was. He's sitting there like an opened book waiting to be read. He's paid to do the reading, but she can see straight through him. He knows everything. He's aware of it all; her attack, her emotions; her hospital stay and the harsh words she's spoken these last couple of days.

"Camille Voight."

He looks up, "Pardon?"

"My mother…she filled you in and sent you in here, didn't she?"

"Yes and there's nothing wrong with that," he defended; Erin wasn't his first patient of trauma and she wouldn't be his last. He was prepared to go through the stages of emotions that a raw victim sheds; anger, inappropriate humor, denial, isolation, sexual confidence, hostility, anxiety, fear, depression, mood changes, shame, disturbed sleep, emotional numbness; he was used to it all. Each victim is different, but Dr. Charles is prepared to help in any situation and circumstance. It's what he's trained to do; it's what he has dedicated his life to doing. He rises to his feet, "You don't have to look betrayed…maybe she was worried about you."

"…maybe she needs to stop and take a look in the mirror because if she is this infatuated with my life, there's obviously something missing in hers." Erin snaps; there's an uncontrollable rage building within the pit of her stomach.

"She's your mother. Your business is her business. Your life is her life."

"Yeah, maybe when I was ten, but I'm an adult."

Dr. Charles nods. He agrees with what she said and she knows it. He crosses the room and circles around it; it's quiet and bare. It's lonely. He didn't bring a clipboard or notepad with him. This is an unofficial session; it's a favor to the Voights. He had free time and when Camille came to see him –crying and pleading-, basically begging him to see her daughter. He didn't want a quick summary; he needed it all laid out. He was supposed to start sessions with her after she's discharged, but he didn't mind moving it up a bit. After doing a brief walk-through of the room, Dr. Charles turned to face her. She was already looking at him; waiting for his next question. He tucked his hands into his white jacket, "It gets pretty quiet in here. And it's a little lonely when no one's talking. Do you like the solitude?"

She shrugs; she doesn't want to be difficult and therefore decides to respond to his question with honesty and ease, "The longer I'm alone, the more I kind of want it to stay that way…"

"Why?"

"…less people, less problems," she responds, crossing her arms and tapping her foot.

"Why is that?"

"I can trust myself."

"Are you implying that you can't trust other people?"

"You can say I have trust issues," she answers, approaching the window, her eyes watching the setting sun. She has had visitors all day today and she's exhausted because of it. She never really craved sleep as much as she does now, and the moment she finishes her talk with the doctor, he'll leave and she might request something to help her go to sleep. She feels the doctor approach her and stand to her left; he's also looking out of the window. Erin clears her throat, "People have a way of coming in and out of my life like a revolving door."

"People like who?"

"Old friends…" she's beating around the bush; she's being vague.

"Old friends like who?"

"There's Charlie, Annie, Nadia," Erin looks to the side to meet his eyes, "sometimes Kim, Jay-"

His whole body turns to face her, "Your husband." He remembers his name. He remembers his relation to Dr. Halstead. He has visited the hospital numerous times for work-related reasons. It sparks Dr. Charles' attention –he remembered Camille filling him in about the situation- he's glad she brought it up and not him. He pries for more information, "Why can't you trust him?"

"I thought he was having an affair."

"…but he wasn't?"

"No, he wasn't."

Dr. Charles repeats his earlier question, "So, why can't you trust him? He didn't do anything."

"I thought he did though…doesn't that mean that I can't trust him?" She responds, stepping even closer to the window –her hand pressed against the glass- she's watching the headlights of vehicles flash by, "I didn't give him the benefit of the doubt. I jumped right into believing he betrayed me. I didn't ask questions. I've known him for so long and I didn't even give him a chance to explain. I yelled at him and left."

"You saw what you saw; your brain put the pieces together. You can't blame yourself for drawing that conclusion. Anyone would have…"

She feels absolutely betrayed by her emotions. She didn't understand them at all. One moment she's angry at Jay, hollering and kicking him out of the room and the next, she feels bad for him; she curses herself for pushing him away and actually feels at fault for hurting him and for what happened to her. Her emotions aren't reliable; their flip-floppy.

Erin runs her free hand through her hair, "I'm too complicated. I should just cut my losses."

"No, why would you say that? You need him right now." His hand pats her back and she momentarily flinches. He's a psychologist who is just trying to comfort her –that's all- just relax Erin…she's forced to mentally remind herself.

"I was born without him, I can live without him." She's unemotional; it's a protective mechanism. When she gets too emotional, it shuts on. Dr. Charles pulls his hand away after noticing her discomfort. He wanted for this to be a relaxed atmosphere. He should have known better. She can't remember the last time she made physical contact with anyone besides her mother and recently Natalie.

"…he can help you if you let him."

Erin chuckles dryly, "How can anyone help me?" She pulls away from the window in her effort to turn and face him, "None of you know what I'm going through; you all try and pretend, but none you truly know, not you, not my own best friend, husband, not even my parents."

"…try to explain it to us."

"It won't work. There are no words to explain it," she sighs in defeat. If she could, she most definitely would explain it. She wanted people to understand that rape and assault was no minor crime; it wasn't something to be brushed away and discarded of. It left people vulnerable and suffering for years to follow.

Dr. Charles sees the light yawn of her mouth –she covers it- and she sadly pouts. It's time for her to go to sleep. She may not need the sleeping pills after all. He closes the curtains, "If you give us a chance to help, we can get the old Erin back. We can get that smile back." She's slowly walking to her hospital bed, "You deserve to be happy and trauma has a way of taking that away and warping our thoughts into thinking we don't." She crawls into bed. She knows that when she wakes up, she'll be getting discharged.

Erin pulls the covers over her legs, "Sometimes I'm afraid to be happy because every single time I'm happy…like genuinely happy, something goes wrong and it hurts me to the point where I just want to give up." She admits; it could be her guard lowering or the exhaustion of the day, but she admits the truth. It's how she feels and she can't control it.

"Do you want that happiness back?"

"Of course I do."

"…then you'll have to let someone in."

"Someone like who?"

"Him," Dr. Charles points towards the door. Erin was so focused in on her conversation with him that she didn't hear it open. Almost immediately, she rolled onto her side to see Jay walking in. He's holding her keys up and is hesitant as he approaches her.

"I just came to bring by your keys," he hands them to her, "…you'll be discharged tomorrow and I know you're going home with your mom, but I don't want you to feel like you can't drop in whenever you like, especially if you need something. It's your house. You have every right to be in it, regardless of what you think of me, it's your house too. It's our home."

Erin takes the keys and sets them down on the end table. It's quiet in the room. He's watching her –silently scanning her healing injuries- they're still obvious but with time they're getting better. He wants to approach her; he wants to comfort her. Dr. Charles can tell, and with that he clears his throat, "This wasn't an official session. I'll just see myself out."

Jay quickly turns to face him, "You don't have to leave. I was just dropping by." He's nervous. He doesn't want to rile her up again. His presence will only do more harm than good.

It surprises him when Erin speaks up, "No."

"Erin-" he sighs.

"Stay."

"If you don't feel comfortable-"

"I want you to stay." She shakes her head and decides to correct herself, "I need you to stay."

Jay nods; he can't deny her. He can't turn her away, especially when she's vulnerable. He knows how much it took her to admit she needs him. Halstead wouldn't read too much into it. She may change her mind in a second, but it's a start, and of all the people, she wants him to stay. Dr. Charles is beaming. With time, sessions and her family and friends continual support, Erin will eventually be just fine. He silently walks to the door and opens it, "Erin, when it comes to life," he glances over his shoulder to look at her, "just try to remember to never let the worst get the best of you." He leaves out; leaving husband and wife alone in the room.

Halstead doesn't know what to do –he's standing still- waiting for her to direct him. He doesn't want to overstep any boundaries. He's on her time right now. She points towards the light switch and he understands. Jay turns off the light. The sun setting shined a few beams of light through the slits in the curtains; it illuminated the room just enough for him to see Erin sliding over in bed. It's not much room, but it's enough for someone else to crawl in.

She pats the empty spot, "Come on…I won't bite."

"Are you sure?" He takes hesitant steps towards the bed. Jay kind of expects her to change her mind, yell, and kick him out. He waits for it and when it doesn't come, he slides into the empty space of the bed. He's stiff; they both are. He doesn't know what to do with his arms and she picks up on his nerves.

"Yesterday you said you wanted to hold me." Her eyes fall to his arms, and after taking a large courageous breath she extends her hand to lie atop of it, "Does the offer still stand? Would you mind holding me until I fell asleep?"

"Erin, I could hold you forever," and with his words, he wraps his arms around her shoulders and feels her snuggle against him. It's just the two of them wrapped in each other's arms. If you were to ask Jay, he thought he would never get the opportunity to hold and cuddle her again. She fit in his arms like a puzzle-piece, her breathing is even and she's calm. No sleeping pills were needed because the safety and security she felt in his hold was greater than any bodyguard, watchdog or visiting friend. She just needed him. She didn't need to be left alone…not now. Now was the time where solitude and isolation should be nonexistent. It would do more harm than good. In times of crisis and trauma the last thing one needs is to be alone with their thoughts, emotions and irrational actions. It was a time to be surrounded by love, support and security.

 **A/N:**

 **One word; life. In other news, I'm back with the regular updates.**


	8. A Healing Soul

It's been almost a week since the attack, but time seemed to be passing at a slow and excruciating rate. It was finally the day of her discharge; it was the day she can get out of this hospital, get fresh air, rest in her own bed and heal. Her physical wounds are healing perfectly fine, they'll heal regardless of her location; it's the mental wounds that need to be fixed. They're the ones that need the most healing; her soul, it's broken; it's a story that goes unfinished, a song that never got to play and a feeling that was never expressed. The beat of her heart, the breaths she takes and the functions of her active brain serve as reminders; they're what's keeping her alive, they're the reason she's able to function day in and out. They're what are going to guide her soul in its own healing journey. And she has no control over that. They'll do their jobs regardless; however they can only do so much. She has to put forth effort. She controls her thoughts, she controls her body and she controls what it does even without knowing. She wishes she can snap her fingers and heal herself; she wants to blink and allow time to jump forward. Erin wants to heal her body and soul without going through the motions of doing it. She has to help herself and use time as her partner in the effort. At the end of the day, it's up to her; she has to do it because it's her body and soul; she's in control of it.

The thought of healing one's own soul seems next to impossible. How do you even go about it? How do you even know your soul is broken? How do you know the course you take will work? How do you know when it's fixed? How do you know anything? It's all up in the air; it's a confused, chaotic thought that no one really put forth effort into answering. She wants her true self. She does want to be the original Erin, but better, wiser and stronger. She didn't go through all of this for nothing at all. She'll figure out a way to benefit in the end; she'll come out on top. She always does. She just has to put her pride aside and ask for help; it's not a burden, it's a humbling task. Erin can't do everything on her own, and healing one's own soul is already an individual duty; it's something she'll have to conquer herself, but with family and friends supporting you along the way, it'll make the obstacle a little easier to overcome. She has to remind herself of that. It's really easy to forget and push people away thinking they're only trying to help to serve their personal fulfilment of community service; they're only doing it for the mere fact that it'll help them feel better, it'll balance the scales of karma for them; it's always about someone else. People have a hard time acting out in pure unselfish ways; it's human nature. If you can benefit from doing something –whether it's just simply feeling good about yourself- then what's to stop someone from doing it, especially when they have nothing to lose?

Erin wants to look at it all –her life, her relationships, her attack- as being set in stone; there had to be purpose behind everything. There was a reason she became a lawyer, a reason she married Halstead, a reason she was born to Camille and Hank Voight, and even a reason behind her attack. There had to be a reason for any and everything; there also had to be purpose. It's something she has believed in her entire life. If she made plans, and suddenly it started to storm really badly, she saw the purpose and reasoning behind it; it wasn't meant for her to follow through on the plans. Everything happens for a reason; wise words spoken by some unknown author, and majorly cited by people –including her mother- in times of strife and hopelessness. Erin always found it odd how it's mainly used to explain the negative attributions of life rather than the positive. If you win an award, no one ever says everything happens for a reason, but if you get fired from your job, the chances of the quote being recited increases. It's commonly associated with the negative, and while she tries to be conscientious of it, Erin finds herself doing the same thing. She's so used to hearing it during a certain sort of times that she uses it in those same types of times. She did expect to hear it after her attack; everything happens for a reason. She wanted to hear it, she hoped and crossed her fingers that someone would say that to her in their attempt to comfort her, but it never came. Maybe they thought it and actually saying it verbally sounded too harsh. If so, maybe they didn't know Erin as good as they assumed because she could definitely take it; she's strong, she's tough and she's definitely a fighter. So, how come no one has told her that her attack happened for a reason? It may have comforted her. It would have given her assault purpose and she would have known it wasn't for nothing. This was always supposed to happen…there was a possibility that knowing there's a reason behind it would make the emotional blow less hard.

Was she wrong for thinking that? Was she a bad person in hoping that her sick rapist had a reason behind what he did? Was she desensitized because she hoped that her rape had purpose? There's no right or wrong answer, but to Erin, whatever could possibly help her sleep at night while taking away the emotions of that day would be worth it. Giving her attack a reason and purpose would make her feel like it wasn't in vain. Call her what you want, but everyone has their different ways in thinking…and who's to say hers is wrong? That was the thought process of Erin as she waited for April to roll the wheelchair into the room. Even if there was no reason or purpose, she needed to find one. It was her first step in her own personal holistic path to healing her soul and strengthening herself physically, mentally and emotionally. Everyone's journeys are different, and she knows for herself personally that if she even thinks she's going to be able to 'move on,' she'll have to come to terms with what happened; no matter how hard it may be she'll have to accept what she cannot change. She cannot change the past and therefore she'll eventually have to accept it. If not, it'll swallow her conscious whole and send her spiraling into a mental abyss filled with despair and misery.

Erin doesn't want to lose herself; it's one of her biggest fears that seemed to have developed some time after her attack. It's never too late in life to gain a fear just like it's never too early in life to lose one. Sometimes things happen to which our fears morph in response to what occurred; for some people it's being afraid of the dark or being scared to be alone, but for her it's to lose herself. She doesn't want to become someone she doesn't recognize and Erin is starting to see that happen. She breaks out of her never-ending thoughts once again when Jay approaches her. His hand is held out in her direction, waiting the moment for her to set her own palm inside of his. April locks the wheels of the chair and her husband helps her take a seat in it. According to hospital policy, when a patient is being released from the hospital, they must be escorted out via wheelchair. It feels like it's an even more humiliating activity; she's subjecting herself to being literally pushed around. This isn't her, but she chooses her battles and this isn't one of them. Erin accepts it; it's policy and she really wants to get out of here.

"Are you ready?" Jay is standing beside the chair.

At the nod of her head, April unlocks the wheel and pushes the chair out of the propped open door. She's dressed in loose fitting jeans and a t-shirt; it's plain, simple and casual; it's her. With every roll of the chair, she gets one step closer to freedom; one step closer to fresh air and one step closer to home. Halstead, Erin and April approach the waiting room, and to her surprise, the entire Intelligence Unit is standing there with Will, Burgess, Roman, Platt and her parents. Each detective was holding a get-well card, a teddy bear or a bouquet of flowers. It was a sweet and kind gesture. She appreciated it. April locks the wheels once more as Jay helps his wife to her feet. It's been hours since the last time she walked and she can definitely feel it in the stiffness of her toes and in the sole of her feet. Her thighs remained sore and she's grateful to whoever brought her over a pair of clothes for not packing a dress. She didn't want to have to see her red and bruised inner thighs; the aching pain between them was already a reminder enough.

"I'm ready to go home," Erin announced; it seems everyone was waiting for her to speak first. She took a quivering step towards her dad's squad, "I'm ready to put this all behind me."

Camille is chipper. She's ready to get Erin home too. She takes an exciting step towards her daughter, "We'll get you to the house and I straightened up your old bedroom-"

"I meant my home," Erin hesitantly interrupted; she's no longer mad at her mother and after yesterday she wanted to make a bigger effort in keeping her loved ones close and not pushing them away, "I want to go to my home."

"Sweetheart, do you really think that's a good idea?" Camille's voice is low; she doesn't want the surrounding people to overhear their conversation. It was already discussed. Erin was going home with her mother so she can take care of her…that was the plan.

"I miss my bed."

"…and you'll eventually get back into it." Camille retorted; she had every intention of going home with her daughter trailing behind her. It was for Erin's sake and hers. She would be up at all hours of the night worrying about her daughter; and knowing she was right down the hall would do them both some good.

"I want to put this all behind me."

Camille nods, "We do too."

"I have to go home to do that."

"Why?"

"…because staying with you, I'll constantly remember why I'm not staying at home. You taking care of me, me being back in my old bedroom and having you wait on me hand and foot is not my idea of recovery. I may be hurt but I'm not incapacitated. I can still perform the daily functions of life. I don't need my mom nursing me back to health."

"You'll still talk to Dr. Charles."

"I know that, but I want to stay at home…and that has nothing to do with me staying home."

Camille sighs, setting her hand against her daughter's shoulder, "Erin-"

"Mom, please…just listen to me." Erin's hand covers her mom's light grip against her shoulder, "Can we for one second do something my way? Is there a chance that my words can possibly hold weight? Do my words have any meaning to you?"

"…of course they do."

"I'm going home." She looks over her mother's shoulder and meets the eyes of her husband. He's watching her and he nods in support. She's coming home.

"Alright," Camille gives in, wrapping her arms around her fragile daughter, "but I'll be over there so much that you'll forget that we don't live together."

"Is there any way I can convince you against that?"

"…not a chance in hell," Camille asserts; releasing her hold around her daughter.

She stepped back –rubbed her hands together- and smiled. Her hair is fallen loosely around her shoulders, the bandage once wrapped around her head removed, and showcasing a cut that held ten stitches. Her face is pale, and light bruising is scattered around her cheeks and neck; she's healing slowly, but she's still getting better. Her lips are no longer swollen, and the swelling in her lower cheeks and jaw is going down as well. She's definitely getting much better. April gives Erin a farewell pat of the back before rolling the wheelchair away. They're standing in the waiting room –located next to the entrance- and she's looking around; there is hope in her eyes, she's excited to see everyone here on her day of discharge. Erin scans the surrounding people and her eyes inevitably land upon her father; he's quietly looking around at everything except her. She takes a step towards him and he backs away, "I need to go sign off on the discharge papers. She should be resting so I'll see you all later." And just like that, her dad disappears once again. His hands tucked in the pockets of his leather jacket, and he pulls it close as he heads towards the receptionist desk.

Erin was strong; she didn't want anyone knowing that it kind of hurt. Her dad is purposely trying to avoid her. Anyone with half a brain could see that. Her eyes drifted to Will; she told him so. She's trying to forgive; it's a part of healing one's soul, and in order to do that, she has to talk to him. However, maybe it isn't worth it; maybe it's not meant to be. She gave him a chance and he bolted with some poor excuse of signing her discharge papers when literally anyone else could have done that. She feels Jay's arm drape around her shoulders, "I'm fine," she mutters before he has the chance to question her, "Can we get out of here?"

"You need to be fully discharged first," Will answers –peering sympathetically into her tired eyes- and soon afterwards his eyes peer over her shoulder to watch Voight's fading figure; he's walking further away. Will walks around her, "I'll be right back…maybe I can help quicken the process. Be right back."

Erin looks up at her husband, "I need to sit."

"Your legs?" Jay questions. He remembers her mentioning the constant ache of her thighs this morning. As he helped her get ready, he saw the bruised and reddened flesh; it looked painful.

He helps her to a seat, "Yeah." She sits, and he takes a close seat next to her.

Voight had been walking faster than Will expected. The young doctor had to break into a light jog to catch up to the sergeant who already managed to request for the discharge papers. The nurse disappeared to retrieve them; leaving Voight leaning against the wall as he waits. Will inhales a large breath and releases it moments afterwards. He slows his jog, but the pace of his walk isn't slow. If he thinks about what he's going to do then he won't do it. His feet beat against the floor as he stomps over, and after swallowing any fear or anything that could hinder him from acting forward, he reaches forward, grabs Voight's arm and turns him around to face him, "Hey I need to talk to you."

"You have less than one second to let go of my arm," the collectivity and calmness of Voight's voice forces Will to release his arm. He had already gotten the man's attention; there was no other reason for his hand to remain gripped around the sergeant's arm, "Now what do you think you're doing? What the hell is your problem?"

"I don't have a problem," Will mutters; he doesn't want the bystanders to hear their conversation, "You have a problem. What man, what father can treat his daughter like that?"

"Watch yourself," Voight raises his pointer finger; it's a warning. He didn't even know where all of this hostility was coming from but Will obviously didn't know who he was talking to.

"You shouldn't treat her like that." He struggles to calm his voice; he's passionate about this. When Erin first mentioned it to him, he thought it was just her post-attack emotions speaking. He thought she was jumping to conclusions that shouldn't have been assumed. Until today, he thought she was just going through the emotions by blaming those she held personally responsible. He thought she saw something that truly wasn't there. Will couldn't stand it; he has always been passionate about his patients and loyal to his family. He stepped even closer to a confused and furious Voight, "She has been through enough. She doesn't need you treating her like that! She doesn't deserve it!"

Voight takes a hold of the clipboard from the nurse, "Who are you talking about? Erin?" He signs his name and fills out the insurance portion of the paperwork.

"Yes! You treat her like some disease!"

"Will, what are you talking about?" Voight hands the nurse back the clipboard. He honestly didn't notice what Will was pointing out. Why would he? He would never treat her any differently. He wouldn't do that to her; she's his daughter. Family meant the world to him. He felt there was no reason to entertain this conversation any longer. Voight waved off Will and began walking away from the receptionist desk, "I don't treat her like that."

"You look at her like she is."

Hank rolls his eyes, "Shut up."

"No…"

Voight stops walking, "Who do you think you are?"

"Who the hell do you think you are treating her –your own daughter- like some stranger?"

"Watch what you say…" His eyes are glazed over; he's staring straight, but he senses Will standing beside him. The waiting room is down the hall and to the left, and for it to be a Tuesday morning in a normally busy hospital, it was pretty quiet and emptied out.

"Why should I?"

"You're pushing my buttons Will. I suggest you get out of my presence." Voight remains standing in the center of the hallway; his hands balling into fists as his knuckles anxiously await the possible connection they may make with the doctor's face. Voight looks to his left and Will remains; he instantly turns to face him, "You're interfering in matters that don't concern you!"

"Erin does concern me!" Will argues; a few nurses who just turned onto the hallway immediately turn around the moment they notice Will and Hank –face to face- jaws set tight and metaphoric steam blowing out of their ears; they're both pissed, "She's family! She's the love of my brother's life! She's my brother's wife Voight. Jay loves her so I love her! She's family, and that means the world to me! It's just unfortunate that it doesn't mean the same to you!"

The second he finished his thought, the older man gripped him by his white, medical coat and slammed him into the nearest wall. He would be lying if he said it didn't hurt both physically and mentally to his ego. Voight has dealt with people taller, bigger and stronger than Will; a low growl erupted from Hank as he holds the doctor against the wall, "You're really trying to push my buttons," his knuckles whiten as he strains his hands around the fabric balled up within them, "It's okay though…keep pushing them; you'll definitely regret it when you push the right one."

"Do you blame her for what happened?" Will is nervous; more so terrified than ever. He has heard from Jay firsthand about the sergeant's anger; it was definitely a problem, and now Will was frightened that he may be experiencing that personally.

He's confused; Voight is downright puzzled, "What?" His confusion causes him to free the doctor from his grip, "That's ridiculous."

"No, it's not!" Will argues; none of this is ridiculous, none of this is confusing or unreasonable. All it takes is a clear mind and an understanding heart to see it, process it and understand it. There is something obviously there; something that is an obvious problem between Voight and his daughter, and Will needed for him to realize that, "Do you blame her? Do you hold her responsible for the attack?"

"No," He whispers; he wants to assert it confidently but he's unable to speak at a louder volume.

"Well I can't tell."

"I don't give a damn what you can and cannot tell. I don't' care what you think."

"…but do you care what she thinks?"

Voight's raspy voice is light; it's low and barely audible, "…of course I do."

"…then maybe you should act like it," Will's shoulder bumps aggressively into Voight's as he walks down the hallway; continuing his quest to the waiting room.

Will turns and stops walking –standing a few feet from the waiting room- he watches them. Erin's sitting down with Jay sitting beside her, holding her hand comfortingly. Her mother is standing behind her –hands resting on her daughter's shoulders- a kind smile pressed upon her lips; she's chuckling, "Having a daughter is like looking in the mirror and wondering if this is payback for what you did to your mother."

"Ha ha mom," Erin rolls her eyes in a joking manner, "you're so funny."

She shrugs in response, "…well someone has to be."

"That title is usually reserved for me," Platt chimes in, slowly raising her hand.

Erin leans over, and rests her head against her husband's shoulder, "I'm ready to get out of here. How long does it take to sign discharge papers? I should have done it."

"…just relax," Olinsky's soothing voice speaks gently.

"How can I relax in this hard chair?" Erin shifts her butt uncomfortably, "How can anyone sit in this thing? It's like…hard plastic!"

"Try sleeping in it for two nights," Camille retorts; her back is still a little stiff from the chair, hence the reason why she's standing. Her feet may hurt but she has no desire to sit down until she's either in the car or at home.

"Look guys," Erin sits up –pushes herself out of the seat- and stands confidently, "thanks for showing your support, I really appreciate it, but I don't know how long all of this is going to last. You all have been great, and don't take this the wrong way, but you all can leave now."

"Why are you trying to get rid of us?" It's Dawson who speaks up; he's been quiet, but now that no one else was talking, he used it to his advantage to talk to the younger woman, "We came here to leave with you and that's what we're planning to do."

"I understand that, and I appreciate it, but we just assumed I was going to leave right away," Erin sighs, responding to one of her dad's best detectives, "We've been waiting for at least ten minutes, and I've been getting restless and I'm sure you all would rather spend your day off someplace else doing something else."

Atwater shakes his head, "We're actually not off today."

"…then what are you doing here?" Erin turns around to face Kevin.

"We need to update the sergeant on Ally and her boyfriend," he answers; looking to Olinsky for approval in disclosing certain information to Erin.

"Oh," she nods with a light smile, "and here I thought you guys were here to see little ol' me."

Mouse approaches, "We are…we just figured since Voight was here too that we'd-"

"…kill two birds with one stone," she finishes; it's understandable. They were detectives and technically they were on the clock; things didn't change just because of her attack. Erin was prepared to respond; her response already thought of and ready to be stated from her mouth when her eyes fall upon Will; he's standing mindlessly down the hall, staring at them. She tugs along her husband's sleeve and nods her head in the direction of his brother, "Why is he just standing there? It's kind of creepy."

"Will!" Jay shouts out, taking a step in his brother's direction.

Dr. Halstead breaks out of his reverie and focuses in on the watchful eyes of Erin and Jay; they look concerned. He clears his throat, adjusts the look on his face and begins to approach them, "Hey, Voight finished signing the papers. You all can head out now."

Without a second thought, a second glance and a second response, Erin grabs her mother's hand and pulls her towards the exit. She knows her husband has to get back to work. She knows she can't drive due to the medication floating through her healing body, and with that in mind, there was no hesitance as she grabbed her mother –farewells, hugs and waves all forgotten- and bolted towards the revolving doors.

"Don't take it personal," Will nudged his brother's side, "I feel like if she wasn't getting discharged today she would have broken out; she'd be a loose patient on the run," Will chuckles lightly, "Can you imagine that? Imagine a disheveled Erin with wild hair and a loose and wrangled hospital gown sneaking through the streets of Chicago?"

"Boss," Antonio's voice cuts into Will's imaginative joke as he notices Voight approach, "we have updates on Ally and-"

"Olinsky's temporarily in charge." He walks pass his team, heading in the direction of the exit.

"What?"

"He's in charge of that case for right now; at least while me and Halstead personally investigate my daughter's attack." He waves for Jay to follow him. Time was literally of the essence and days have passed since her assault; the more time that passes, the higher the chance that he'll get away. He couldn't have that. He wouldn't have that.

Platt reaches for his arm, "Police are already looking into it."

"Good; the more the merrier," Voight scans his team before his eyes finally rest upon Al's face; he waves his closest friend over, "Did you speak to Erin's boss like I asked?"

Olinsky nods assuredly; he's positively confident, "It's taken care of. Erin's job is safe and they're all patiently waiting for her return whenever she's good and ready."

Minutes after their departure Camille reappears –she's out of breath- she had to jog back. They were supposed to take Jay's car and he was going to leave with Voight, however they both forgot to grab the keys from him. Erin remained outside; she had no desire in going back into the building; the hospital that served as her own mental and physical prison. Her mother promised to be quick and then set off to run back into the hospital.

"What's wrong?" Voight is worried; after everything that happened, he has every right to be. He immediately steps up to his wife, turning her exhausted body to face him, "Why were you running? Why are you out of breath?"

She tries to even out her breathing; her hand patting comfortingly against his chest, "I'm fine. We're fine. We just forgot to grab the keys from Halstead." Jay began patting down the pocket of his jeans in search of his keys; he eventually found them in the pocket of his leather jacket.

"Thanks," she catches the keys after he carefully tosses them her way, and the second she turns around to leave –she stops- her back to them, her feet frozen but her thoughts are racing at lightning speed, "Hank," she turns around once again, "did you find anything out on the surveillance video?"

"…the footage wasn't in the greatest quality, especially because it was raining that night, but we did figure out how he left." Voight answered his wife, walking with her towards the exit.

"And how did he leave?"

"Someone picked him up." His eyes remained focused forward; he couldn't look at his wife, she resembled Erin too much and it would feel like he was talking to her; telling her details of a case that personally involved all of them. He couldn't do it. It was already hard trying to detach himself from the situation and think with a semi-clear head, but doing it with the thought of Erin in mind was distressing, it was maddening and it pulled a side of Voight out that has been tucked away and reserved for reasons such as this moment; such as the moment that something horrible were to happen to someone he loves. With his hand pressed against his wife's lower back, he escorts her to the revolving door, "We're going to head into work. Erin doesn't think Chad Harrison had anything to do with it, but we're looking into him anyway…it's a start. We need some type of start because we literally have nothing to go off of right now."

"…you'll find him, right?" Camille turns to face her husband –he's trying to get rid of her- she couldn't leave until she gathered enough positive assurances from him; she needs to know that this case won't go cold. He has to find this man and whoever drove that getaway car.

"Don't doubt me now Cam; you never did before," he pecked his wife's cheek; waving her away, "Before I get back to the station, me and Halstead are going to stop by the crime lab to see if they started processing the kit.

She remembers her conversation with Will and she briefly stops walking, "What if they didn't?"

"…then I'll rush the process."

"What if you can't?"

He waves her goodbye, "I'm more persuasive than you give me credit for."

"Are you coming by after work?"

"…to pick you up," he answers. She's still inside; she refuses to leave until she gets as much answers as she can. She sees Halstead a close distance behind her husband; he's not paying attention; he's acting as if he can't hear their conversation. She appreciates the privacy.

"What about to see your daughter?"

"She doesn't want to see me," Voight assures; he knows his daughter; at least he thinks he does, "She wants me to find this guy. She wants me to get justice for her. She wants me to do my job!"

Camille shakes her head, "…not at the expense of distancing yourself from her! You can do both! You can be a father and a sergeant at the same time!"

"I'll be a father after I kill this sonofabitch," Voight mentally decides to walk his wife to the car. He approaches her, lays his hand against her lower back and walks with her out of the revolving door, "When I'm with her, I need to be with her 100%. I can't be that right now. All I think about is him; he's out there, free and living his life happily! Of all the people, you should understand why I'm not by your side and hers 24/7."

"…just don't lose sight of your daughter in your quest for vengeance," she pecks his cheek, and waves him away as she jogs up to Erin.

Hank watches his wife unlock the car door and jog towards the driver's side. His eyes drift to his daughter, and she's currently sliding into the vehicle. He sees her and she sees him. A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips; however, the same expression isn't reciprocated. Erin sits there –glaring at him- mouth stretched in a straight line and face unemotional. Her expression is detached; it continues to be her best way to cope. Camille watches the exchange; she notices the desperation on Voight's face, he wants for all of this to be over and eventually she notices the look on her daughter's face; her anger is specked with hurt. She's trying to hide it, but she isn't doing a good job of it. Camille sighs to herself and slides into the driver's seat; after buckling herself in, adjusting the seat and mirrors, and starting the car, she pulls out of the parallel parking space. She presses down upon the horn to earn her husband's attention and she waves.

"We're off."

Erin sighs –eyes watching her dad in the rearview mirror- they're getting further and further away from him and the hospital, "Finally…"

"You know you don't need to hide your emotions around us. You're justified in feeling whatever way you do. It's nothing to be ashamed of…"

Erin sniffs, "It's a protective mechanism."

"You don't have to hide it and pretend to be strong!" Camille argued; flicking on her turn signal as she approaches a red light.

"I hide the pain inside and walk around with a smile on my face pretending to be okay," Erin admits; she leans her seat back and rests, "when honestly I just want to break down and cry."

"…so do it; breakdown and cry. It's okay."

Erin doesn't respond; she doesn't have anything to say. She wants to do what's best for her. She wants to act the way she finds best; if bottling in emotions and shielding herself from the world mentally and emotionally is what she sees in her best interests then that is what she will do. Erin curls into the seat, her head resting against the head rest and she watches the road as her mother drives law abidingly. She was one of the safest drivers Erin has ever known. No traffic laws were ever broken under her mom's watch. Relief washed over Erin as they pulled into the complex of her home. Her car is still parked outside where she last left it days ago. It was left untouched. No one drove it during her stay at Chicago Med. If she would have just driven it someplace else that night, her whole life would have changed. It's amazing when you think about it. One small decision could change the course of someone's life forever. So many small things could have occurred differently that possibly would have taken her off the path that she's currently stuck on.

Camille closed the front door behind her. She shimmied out of her jacket and hung it on the coatrack. A light hum played through her voice to fill the silence as she turned to face her quiet daughter. Erin was standing still in the hallway; her eyes doing its new normal thing of glazing over, she's staring off in the direction of the living room; her feet stuck and implanted in the carpet. She hadn't been home since that night. She hadn't stepped foot inside since she caught her husband with his ex-girlfriend. She was so quick in wanting to be discharged that she had forgotten what she was going home to; she rushed to get back to the bad memories.

"He didn't cheat on me."

She feels her mother approach her side, "No he didn't sweetheart," her hand rubs against her daughter's back, "Are you sure you're going to be okay staying here?"

Flashes of Ally and Jay together play through her mind –just a few feet up ahead- she saw them. His hands wrapped around her upper arms and her lips playing upon his; they were together; they were one with each other. She was his first girlfriend and during the time of their relationship, they meant the world to each other. In Ally's eyes, she was Jay's true love; that must have been the reason she had thrown herself at him, either that or revenge for finding out that Jay was investigating her boyfriend. Erin took a step even closer to the position she caught them standing in. It was going to take some getting used to being in this house; this was her home with her husband. It wasn't meant to be shared by some ex-girlfriend or criminal. Ally had invaded her home, her space and her husband in her attempt to seduce him. The thought didn't sadden her anymore because she had known it was all one-sided; if anything, the thought and the picture angered her. Who does Ally think she is?

"I'm fine here," Erin growled, unzipping her jacket and storming further down the hallway, "I'm perfectly fine. Why would you think otherwise?"

"…no reason," Camille whispers. She didn't want to pry further into her daughter's hidden emotions. Erin will tell her when she's good and ready.

"It's just," there was barely any hesitation on Erin's part –she just relaxed and just started talking- her breaths were scattered; she desperately needed something to do to clear her mind, "that girl was in my house! She touched my husband! She felt comfortable enough to take off her clothes and try to seduce him! What the hell was she thinking? She had some nerve!"

Camille nodded along; it was good to let her daughter speak, "That's right…the little slut." Her mother instigated the anger bubbling within her daughter; it was good for Erin to get it all out.

"I mean" Erin begins pacing; her fingernails digging into her head in her attempt to destress and get it all out of her system –especially before Halstead came home- she needed to move pass all of this; his nonaffair should be the last thing on her mind, but it wasn't. Erin grips her hair even tighter, "he didn't come after me because of her! Did she really think coming after a married man would work? Did she think he would just sleep with her? Did she honestly assume he would throw everything away…to be with her? She's nothing but a traitorous slut and I hate her."

Venting personal feelings, problems and irrational thoughts out is never a bad thing. It's good for the soul; it's good for the bodily system. It's not good to hold it all in. Erin's fingers relaxed and she pulled them gently out of her head. She had to get over this. She told Jay she was fine with what happened, or in this case, what didn't happen. She wouldn't allow this situation to make a liar out of her. She had to get over it.

Camille hesitantly stepped forward, "How about you go upstairs and rest?"

"I rested long enough in that hospital; that's the last thing I want to do," Erin responds, setting her purse down and walking into the kitchen, "Dishes!" She sees a few plates and silverware lying in the sink, "We meet again you dirty bastards."

"Sweetheart," Camille watches her daughter pull on the yellow, cleaning gloves out of the side drawer, "you don't have to do this. Let me cleanup for you. You shouldn't have to come home and do housework. Let me wash those."

"Mom, cleaning the house keeps me busy. It clears my mind." Erin turns on the sink water; the house isn't dirty or junky, but Erin still had every intention of cleaning the townhouse bottom to top. It would serve its purpose in passing the time and busying her mind. Erin grabs the dish soap and squirts it onto the sponge, "You can watch or you can help?"

"Is this seriously how you want to spend your first day back?"

Erin picks up one of the two plates, "I want to relax in a spotless house…so yes, this is how I want to spend my first day back."

"Alright, what do you need me to do?" Camille sighs; she's looking around for something that needs cleaning or fixing.

"You can vacuum the floors around the house."

And that's just what Camille did. She busied herself with vacuuming the carpeted floors, sweeping the tiled floors and dusting the shelves in the living room, Erin's office and the bedrooms while Erin kept herself occupied by doing literally everything else. Time was an afterthought and the passing of it was a welcomed distraction; it was a gift, one that was definitely accepted by Erin. A part of healing one's soul is the passage of time; time's purpose is to allow her wounds to heal and the trauma to settle. It'll numb her and allow for her to do what needs to be done in order to move forward. Erin knows what she's doing; she just wished everyone else could see that.

"Hello," she lifts up the house phone and presses it against her ear. Her cell was broken from the water and she definitely needed a new one. So, for the time being, people will have to contact her through the landline.

It's Jay. He has been gone for hours and is now checking in with her, "Hey, are you home?"

"No, I left out. I just brought my house phone with me." Her answer is sarcastic and it pulls a smiling tug from both of their mouths.

"What are you doing?"

"…just finished cleaning," Erin pulls off the yellow cleaning gloves, "Where are you?"

The front door opens, "Walking through the front door," he hears the phone hang up and seconds following spots his wife standing in the hallway of their home. Jay absolutely missed this. He missed coming home to his wife; seeing her beautiful smiling face, deep dimples and lovely expression. She was perfect in his eyes no matter how many imperfections she tried to point out. Erin was it for him. Many people in their lifetime do not get the chance or the pleasure in finding their perfect fit; and he was one of the lucky few who did. Jay hangs his jacket on the coatrack, "We brought back your favorite food."

Hank spotted Erin's eyes as they drifted over Jay's shoulder. She wasn't looking at her husband, she was looking at him; watching him, observing every expression and body movement he did. She was very good at reading people and he knew right now she was reading him. He was her biggest challenge; unlike many other people, Hank Voight didn't have the obvious, clear as day emotions that normal people usually possessed and showed. He was a mystery that sometimes even his own wife and daughter couldn't solve.

"Won't you and Camille go set the table?" Hank recommended; nodding towards his wife to come take the food from him, "I want to speak to my daughter alone." Camille immediately agreed. This was good. This was all going to work out…and maybe her words with Hank earlier actually influenced him. He's doing the right thing.

"Let's see here;" Erin asserts; both her mother, husband and father understanding the tone in her voice. This wasn't going to be easy for Hank and they all knew it. Camille waved for Jay to follow her; leaving father and daughter alone in the hallway, "I've washed the dishes, vacuumed the floor, cleaned the master bedroom and washed clothes. Nope, this mental list of mine doesn't say anything about me being required to talk to you."

"Erin-"

"No," she interrupts him. She has no desire to hear what he has to say.

He steps towards her, "I just want to talk to-"

"Why should I talk to you? Why should I hear you out? Why should I even see you right now? You obviously had no desire to see me while I was in the hospital."

"That's not true!"

"…well, that's what you made me believe." And with those words, she turns around and marches off in the direction of her bedroom. She had lost her appetite the moment she saw her father. To most people, storming away and slamming a door is a clear sign of a conversation being over. However, like everyone else knows, Voight isn't one to pick up or pay attention to those signs. He ignores them completely and intentionally. Within seconds, Hank is jogging in the direction she retreated into; and moments afterwards he steps inside her quiet bedroom.

Erin sits in the dark room –her body relaxed on the corner couch- her eyes staring outside of the window. It's calming; the darkening sky and the moon slowly switching places with the sun is relaxing; it clears one's mind. It allows people to focus on the beauty in the world because there's so much of it. With life and the negatives in living in such an imperfect world, people forget about the pleasures and the perfections that also exist. She hears him quietly close the door behind him, "Please get out."

"Erin, I'm trying!" Voight pleads with his daughter. He crosses the room in a matter of seconds and takes a desperate seat beside her. Without a second thought, he takes a hold of her hand and refuses to let go no matter how many times she tried to pull away.

She uses her free hand to wipe the corner of her eyes, "…me too."

"I'm…confused."

"Same." Erin nods; she understood every emotion he was feeling. She was feeling them in overdrive and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Sad."

"Yep."

"…and really, really infuriated!"

"Me…too," she drawls out slowly; it's one of the main emotions she has been feeling these last few days. It's her to go to emotion; it's the one that jumps forward and takes over whenever she can't decide how to feel. It's the number one option that she knows will protect her regardless of who says or does what. It's comforting. No one takes advantage of an infuriated person.

Voight takes a chance; he pulls his hand free and wraps his arm around her shoulder, "So what do we do about it?" It's successful; she doesn't pull away.

"You should let me help."

He bites his bottom lip, "No can do."

"Dad-

"You can't be on this case!"

"And technically you're not supposed to either." She reminds; he didn't know how much she knew and if they're going to end all of this, he needs her. He doesn't know what she knows. He has never heard the man speak. He didn't see his eyes. Voight can't be in her mind. It's impossible, and if they're going to get him, they need to work together. Erin turns her entire body to face him –her glossy eyes shining in the moonlight- it gets him every time, "Let me help…I won't get in your way. I promise. I'll do whatever you say; I just need to be a part of bringing this guy in. I can be helpful. I'll stay on the sidelines. I'll stay in the bullpen. Just please dad, let me help….please!"

It pains him to agree. She shouldn't have to help. She shouldn't have to do anything. He should be the one getting her justice, but he isn't good enough. This guy is still out there and he hasn't been the best detective he can be because that man is still free…and now his daughter lacks his ability to capture him on his own. She wants to help. It's resorted to that. And he knows she has been trying to clear her mind; he may not have visited often, but he stayed in the loop on her progress. Knowing she was doing as good as expected, pushed Voight to investigate harder, intimidate suspects, break a few laws and follow through on some threats; any means necessary. The sooner he caught this guy; the sooner he could be by her side during recovery.

"…two weeks."

"Huh," Erin tilts her head in question, "I don't understand. What about two weeks?"

"Give me two weeks to solve this and if we don't, then you can help."

"What am I supposed to do during those two weeks?"

"…continue to recover," Voight stands, pecks her forehead and then heads towards the door.


	9. Take Your Time

**Okay, guys I'm aware that I said I'm back with regular updates and by regular I didn't mean every day. The story Stalker was pre-written which made it easier to update so often. This story isn't. I appreciate your patience, but I don't need the messages and/or reviews from readers telling me what I said or telling me that the time it's taking me to update is making me lose their interest. I'm trying to update as frequently as I can, but this isn't my life. I can't work on chapters 24/7.**

 **Now, for those of you who are bearing with me, and leaving those amazing and encouraging reviews…thank you! Thank you. I read each and every review and I absolutely love hearing your opinions. It's motivating. It's interesting and it definitely keeps me encouraged to write fanfiction and possibly continue writing other stories post-Murphy's Law. Thanks again, you guys are definitely the greatest Chicago PD watchers and Linstead lovers. This story should be finished either this week or the next…(preferably before I leave for vacation). Thanks again guys! Enjoy.**

Erin abruptly wakes up; her tank top soaked in a puddle of sweat, she's out of breath and her hand finds comfort lying above her racing heart. She's trying to catch her breath; however with each intake it serves to be a fruitless attempt. Her eyes are flushed in panic and they're scanning around the hot and dark room. The nightmares were supposed to be getting better; sleep was supposed to be getting easier. Her eyes drift from the couch and over to the bedroom door; it's closed and locked like she prefers it. Eventually they land upon Jay and she desperately wants to wake him for comfort, but he got in late and he'll have to leave out early; he deserves his rest. Why should they both have to suffer from a lack of sleep? She looks over to the clock; reading the red numbers it displays the time -4:36am- it is way too early or late, however one distinguishes the a.m. Erin knew by the way she currently felt, the chances of her falling back to sleep was slim to none. She threw the covers off and stepped out of her bed. Her feet seeped into the white carpet, and she stretched her body before rising completely to her feet.

Since the redness and bruising disappeared from her thighs, she has been wearing more shorts around the house. Any signs of her attack were gone from her legs and in that aspect; she could start wearing shorts again. She tried –attempted as best as she possibly could- to be quiet; with each step she took, the floorboards beneath the carpet creaked. When she opened the bedroom door, it creaked. Things that have never made an inkling of a sound chose to make it tonight. Erin figured since sleep wasn't going to be an option tonight, she might as well get some work done; it wouldn't hurt. She didn't want to fall too far behind. Erin pushed open her office door –it was just as she left it- she quietly closed it behind her before taking a seat in her desk chair. Erin turned on her desk lamp, and pulled out a stack of files locked away in the side drawer. She opens the first case file and her eyes drift to her client's name.

"Hey babe," the second her eyes read the second line of the brief her husband opens the door. She looks up to see his head sticking partially in, "What are you even doing up? What are you doing in here?"

"…trying to keep busy."

"Why?"

She closes the file, "It's been a week Jay."

"I know," He steps inside and Erin gets a good glimpse of him. He's dressed in a pair of sweatpants and his chest is bare. Jay hates sleeping with a shirt on; it's too constricting he says.

"This…all of this is supposed to be getting easier!" Erin doesn't have to mention what she's referring to because he already knows. It has been her problem this entire week. After everything that happened, she was supposed to be moving forward, not stuck in the past. Her nightmares were like a prison within her mind; it constantly replayed that night, but recently the nightmare took on a change of its own; now her assaulter wanted her dead in the dream. Erin's elbows rested upon her desk, and she stared at the time on her desk clock, "I'm supposed to be getting better. With every day that passes, I'm supposed to be another day stronger. I'm going backwards Jay. I don't think this is how healing is supposed to go."

"You can't rush this." Jay sighs, shutting the door behind him, "This takes time. You have to take your time and heal…rushing progress won't do anyone any good."

The time has now approached five am and this time last week, it was the morning of her attack. When she woke up last week on this day, she had no idea how the events of the day would turn out. She didn't know she was going to have work-related issues, she had no idea she would find her husband's ex-girlfriend in his arms, she couldn't predict that she was going to have a falling out with her best friend and she definitely –by far- had no way of knowing she would be physically and assaulted that night. Oh, how amazing life would have been if she could have predicted all of that? If she had known any of those events were going to happen, she would have took off from work and locked herself in her bedroom all day.

"How much time does it take?" She speaks lightly; her watery eyes plead with him for an answer, "How long until I get over this? When can I finally move on? I've seen Dr. Charles twice this week and I still feel the same, so Jay, please tell me, how much time does it take?"

"There's no deadline."

"How come," She's truly curious to know; there's no sarcasm or sass in her voice. She honestly wanted to know how come grief, pain and anguish didn't have a deadline; there's no set time for the emotions to start and end. None of that was fair. How can one continue to go about their lives not knowing when they'll be happy again? Erin sits back in her chair and speaks solemnly, "I don't like feeling like this. I want to get over it. I'm trying to get over it, but I can't. I can't move on…no matter how hard I try, I'm stuck Jay, and it scares me."

At the break in her voice, he immediately approaches her, "That's what I'm here for," he stoops down in front of her, "I'll always be here."

"…then why weren't you?" It hurts her to bring it up again, but she can't control it. She has to bring it up because a part of her still isn't over it. She sniffs, "I know you didn't cheat. I know it was one-sided, but Jay, in that moment, did you not want me anymore? Did the thrill of being with her overpower the thrill of being in a relationship with me? In that second, why didn't you want me? Why didn't you come after me? Were you unable to get her out of your head?"

"I promise you Erin;" Jay's assertive voice echoes in the barely lit office space, "there has not been a second that I stopped wanting you, and you haven't gotten out of my head since the first time I met you. Ally means nothing."

"…then why didn't you come after me?"

Jay shrugs, "because…because she found out the truth and I was doing damage control. She knew I was investigating her boyfriend and I couldn't let her ruin my investigation. When you stormed out, I thought you were outside. I didn't think you left the neighborhood."

"Well I did," her arms cross over her chest, "I left and I got attacked."

"Erin-"

She cuts him off, "I know it's not your fault. I don't blame you."

A brief silence surrounds the room; it's just the two of them waiting for the other to speak. She's still shaken up from her nightmare, and she doesn't feel like she'll be getting over that any time soon. Her body is stiff. She thinks about yesterday; she thinks about this whole week. It's supposed to be getting easier, but it wasn't. If anything, it felt like it all was getting harder. They continue to wait for the other to speak, but neither does. Jay honestly doesn't know what to say. He wants her to lead the conversation and he'll follow. Sleep is a forgotten necessity; he didn't want it if she wasn't going to get it. Jay clears his throat, and she quickly looks up thinking he's about to speak; however words never followed. She unravels her arms, and rests her elbows against her organized desk. Erin places her chin in the center of her hand and her eyes follow Jay as he walks around her office –staring at her awards, certificates and degrees- he was looking at it as if it was his first time seeing it. He was stalling; waiting for her to say something. She knows her husband and from his body language and expression, she knew he wasn't going to speak up. Erin smirks, and gives in. She decides to fill the silence of her office with her voice.

"Something good better happen today because yesterday absolutely sucked."

He immediately turns around to face her, "What happened?" The idea of looking around her office quickly leaves his mind; he's now focused back on her.

"My mother happened…" She answers; a sly smile finding its way upon her face, "She's been happening this entire week."

"She's just worried about you."

"That's the only reason why I haven't kicked her out yet." Erin is open and honest; her eyes follow him as he paces back and forth in front of her desk, "She's smothering me! I can't do anything on my own anymore!"

He quietly chuckles, "It can't be that bad!"

"She follows me to the restroom Jay." Erin argues; her voice whispers it as if her mother is there, "She thinks I might slip, fall and hit my head or something. I don't know, but it's driving me crazy. I can't do this forever."

"You gave her quite a scare." He reminds; his pacing feet coming to an abrupt stop. Jay turns around to face her completely, "You gave all of us one."

"It's ridiculous," Erin ignores his reminder. She knew that. She didn't need to be reminded of it.

"Erin-"

"I'm 27."

"Talk to her."

"I did…and she started crying."

His brows furrow in confusion, "Why?"

"You know my mother gets emotional. She's just scared to let me out of her sight."

"You're not the only one who needs healing." Jay finds himself leaning against the edge of her desk; his legs are tired and he's absolutely exhausted, but he wasn't going to tell her that. She would kick him out and send him to bed like a child. He suppresses a yawn, "We all do."

This perks up Erin's ears; she sits up straight, crosses one leg over the other and intertwines her hands over her lap. There's no way she can continue the conversation about her mother's overbearing nature. She needed to ask questions; she needed to understand. Erin bites her lip in disbelief, "What do you guys need healing from?"

"We have to move on too."

She reminds, "I'm the one that was attacked." Her eyebrows are knitted together.

"..And I'm not undermining that."

"I know you're not. I'm just confused."

"When someone you love and care about is hurt, it affects those that care about them. We aren't directly victimized, but we're suffering too. We're pained and grieving. It hurts to see you hurt."

His words make absolute sense. You don't have to be affected directly. Someone you love can be hurt, injured or dead, and just because it's them that it happened to doesn't mean the loved one of that person isn't upset. You grieve when someone dies. You can't tell the griever that since technically they're not the one who died, they shouldn't feel hurt and pain. The love they have for that person is enough to make the pain develop immensely as if they were hurt directly. Erin feels bad for ever implying that Jay and her family and friends didn't have a right to heal, to move on and be okay. It wasn't intentional. She honestly didn't know…and she'd been focused on her own emotions that she overlooked theirs.

"I'm sorry."

"Now, you of all people do not need to apologize, especially to me."

Erin wipes the corner of her eyes, "I just… I need help Jay."

"I know and you're getting it."

"I need more than Dr. Charles help. He doesn't understand me. He doesn't personally know what I'm going through. He doesn't get it."

"We can talk about it," Jay offers; he has no idea what he's doing, he's not specialized in this type of stuff, but she's his wife and he'll be specialized in whatever she needs him to be.

She sniffs once more, "that won't work either. You won't get it. I can sit here and tell you what he did and how I'm feeling, but you really won't know. You'll nod like you understand. You'll give me words of advice like you truly get it, but you don't. No one will know unless they go through it…and I wouldn't even wish that upon my worst enemy."

Jay walks around her desk once more, "Tell me," He turns her swivel chair around to face him, "I can help you, just tell me what you want?"

"I don't know! And that's the problem! I thought I could self-heal. I figured if I wanted to get better, I will, but I've wanted to get better this whole week…and I still feel the same." She snaps, swatting his hand away from its hold on her chair, "I'm stuck. I'll always be stuck."

"I see progress…"

"No you don't." She quips, rolling her eyes in frustration.

"You've forgiven me. You've forgiven your dad, Kim and Ruzek too."

"I never said I forgave Kim and Adam."

Jay corrects himself, "You forgave me and your dad…that's progress."

"It is?"

"Yeah," He repositions her swivel chair to face him again, "Now how about we head back to the room and get some sleep?" His hand brushes beneath her chin and he tilts her head up; he's looking into her eyes and he sees something there. She's afraid.

She breaks eye contact, "You go ahead." Erin can tell he was reading her. He saw the true emotion in her eyes; he saw the fear, the defeat and especially the frustration because that is what all of this has been to her; a big frustrated and unwarranted event. She doesn't want to prevent him from getting sleep, especially because he has work tomorrow, and the more time that passes the more of a hard-ass her father is becoming. He hasn't said it since the day she requested it, but she knows him. She knows he doesn't want her helping out, regardless of what rules he sets in place that she promised to follow.

"You're not tired?"

"I am."

He nods towards the door, "…then come on."

Erin doesn't move an inch and Jay notices the moment he opens her office door. She didn't shift, her eyes didn't follow him and she didn't even adjust herself to make it look like she was eventually going to get up. Erin didn't want to go to sleep because she knew the second her eyes closed, that man would come back. He would come back and finish what he started. Erin's eyes met Jay's and she immediately shook her head. She can't move. The thought of continuing that nightmare scared her body into a panic. She couldn't enjoy the pleasure of sleeping because he haunted her in her subconscious; he waited for her to return just so he can finish. Erin remains frozen and Jay watches her; after reclosing her office door he approaches her once again.

"I had a nightmare." She admits the moment he's standing in front of her.

He repeats, "You had a nightmare."

"I know it sounds stupid and overly pathetic, but-"

"No…no it doesn't. That's not stupid at all and it's definitely not pathetic. Stop doubting yourself Erin. Stop doubting your feelings." He argues, stooping low in front of her –resting his hands upon her knees- he looks into her eyes, "You have every right to feel that way. And I heard that sometimes talking about your nightmare helps."

Erin gives in, "He was going to kill me this time." She wants to feel better and she's willing to try anything. If talking about it is supposed to help, she's prepared to try it.

"Who?"

"The guy…the man who attacked me. He wasn't going to stop. He wanted me dead and I woke up when he started strangling me."

His hand squeezes her knees in comfort, "Erin-"

"I know it's not real, but it felt like it was!" She absentmindedly pushes his hands away. She's not ready for that type of comfort.

"Have you had the same nightmare every night?"

"He haunts me when I'm awake and when I'm asleep." She reiterates her earlier thought, "I can't catch a break. At first, when we were together and slept next to each other, I was okay. He didn't come in my dreams, but now he's back. He's back and the nightmares are progressing."

"Have you told Dr. Charles about them?"

"Yes, and he spoke with Dr. Rhodes. He prescribed me those damn sleeping pills again."

"Have you been taking them?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Erin sighs to herself; she's thinking of the best way to get her point across. She's thinking of the best way to describe why she hasn't taken them. Erin's eyes close as she speaks, "I'm not in control…at least not fully. The pill keeps me asleep. They don't stop the nightmares. They just prolong them. Nothing works. When I take a pill, within an hour it puts me straight to sleep, and regardless of what happens in my nightmare, I'll stay asleep. I won't wake when he chases me. I won't wake when he catches me and I won't wake up when he attacks me. I'll stay asleep because the pill is in control, not me."

"You need sleep."

"I know," she nods sadly; her voice breaks in defeat, "I want sleep, but it's hard to fall into it."

Jay tilts his head, "How about I hum to you?"

"I'm not a child."

"I know you're not, but when your mom does it, it seems to soothe you a little." Jay rises to a standing position and offers her his hand, "Come on. It's worth a shot."

Erin sets her hand in his and he pulls her to her feet. Jay places a light kiss upon the top of her hand before leading her out of the office. It's quiet as they walk down the hall; the only sound is the floorboards creaking. They seem to only creak at night when the lights are off and the house seems spookier than what it is. Maybe the noises aren't really there; they could be a figment of their imagination, but whatever is the truth, they hear them.

"Jay," Erin calls his name –purposefully trying to speak over the creepy sounds that fill their home- she sees their room up ahead, "Can this stay between us? My parents don't need to know. It'll just worry them for no reason."

"I won't say anything," he pushes open their bedroom door, "You have my word." She sighs in relief and the second her eyes fall to their messy bed, her feet abruptly stop walking.

Jay pulls the covers back as she remains standing at the foot of the bed. She's unmoving. She's simply staring at her side of the bed, reflecting back on the nightmare that woke her up. Halstead walks around and takes her hand, "Come on," he gently tugs her forward, "I'll be right next to you. I'm not going anywhere."

"Are you still going to hum to me?" She felt like a child asking that question, but he was right, it was definitely comforting to her. It was worth a short.

Jay slides into bed, "Of course," he lifts the covers and watches as she crawls in beside him. Her back rested against his chest, and his arms circled around her waist. It was the first time this week that they've laid this close. Usually they remain sleeping beside each other –no body contact at all- but now, they're chest to back, and his arms are wrapped around her as he spoons her in comfort. She didn't push him away. She accepted it. It was actually reassuring; she knew he was here; he was always here.

As his light hums bounced off the walls of their bedroom, Erin closed her eyes. Sleep never came but the sound of his masculine voice humming a light tone was soothing. The tension in her shoulders relaxed as her body and thoughts calmed down. She recognized the song he was humming; it was their song. It was the first slow song they danced to years ago, way before they were married. He remembered it and that tugged a smile on her face. Erin rested her hand atop of his –his laid over her stomach- curled around her body in a protective hold.

"How did this even happen?" She interrupts his humming with a thought that wouldn't leave.

"How did what happen?"

Her fingers trace his arm, "…our relationship, our friendship, our marriage."

"I don't know how we happened." He answered honestly; it all happened so long ago and so fast. It was hard to remember the exact moment 'I' and 'me' turned into an 'us' and 'we', but whatever happened, it was all worth it. Jay sighs, giving up on contemplating the moment, "We just kind of did. It just kind of happened…like it was meant." He begins humming again and her eyes struggle to fight the urge to close. If they close, they'll drift off to sleep. She continues to fight sleep and reopens them in a matter of seconds.

"Are you happy?"

He stops humming, "Because of you, I smile a whole lot more."

"…but are you happy? I smiled a lot this week, but it didn't mean I was happy."

"I'm very happy," he assures, closing his eyes, "I'm extremely happy because of you." Jay starts humming again. He knows eventually she'll fall asleep. It's hard to ignore the soothing tone and vibrations of a slow song being hummed. Once he gets her to sleep, only a part of the obstacle is over, the next obstacle is actually getting her to stay asleep.

"It'll all work out, right?" She turns in bed; pulling away briefly in order to turn and face him, "Everything will be okay?" She lays against his chest; her head resting over his muscled peck.

He rewraps his arms around her, "Of course," his hold is protecting; it assures her that nothing and no one could hurt her as long as he's here, "I got you. I always will."

"You always know how to make my day."

"…like I said earlier, that's what I'm here for." Jay begins to hum once more; tightening his protective hold around her. He knew she could feel the comfort, safety and security that she desperately needed by being in his arms.

She yawns, "I love you."

His lips press against her forehead, "I love you too."

This time Erin doesn't interrupt –she can't- she loses the battle to sleep, and hours pass without so much as a squirm, a yelp, a toss or a turn from her. When she finally does wake up, she's well-rested. Erin's eyes flutter open; she's lying on her stomach, arms sprawled out and a portion of her face is buried into her pillow. She pushes herself up and looks around, taking a quick look around the room, she finds the curtains drawn and a note on the end table. As she reaches for the note, her eyes catch the time -4:54pm- she had slept most of her day away. While she missed out on whatever happened in the world today, she felt refreshed and re-energized. That was the best sleep she has ever had since her attack; it was definitely needed and the unseen weight that was on her shoulders was gone. It was the first time she woke up without feeling pressured, without feeling stressed and traumatized.

Erin unfolds the paper and her eyes skim the brief note: _I had to leave for work. Sorry I couldn't be there when you woke up. Hope you enjoyed your sleep. See you when I get off. I love you Er. P.S. your mother is here. I told her you were sleeping but she insisted on staying._ Erin smiled at the note. He didn't have to leave her one, but he did. She knew he wasn't going to be here when she woke up –he had work- yet he apologized for having to leave her. Erin sets the note down and climbs out of bed –the smell of food filling the house- and it pushes her to start getting ready. She grabs her towel and walks into the restroom. Her mother didn't need to know she's awake until she's ready for her to know.

Camille sat at the dining room table; her legs are crossed and she's reading some magazine she found while straightening up the living room. Each page she reads is starting to look and sound the same. It's boring. She's just passing the time as the food cooks and her daughter sleeps. She needed a distraction; something to pass the time. Camille sighs as she reads some boring article about some Hollywood housewife getting a large settlement from her fourth husband. It wasn't entertaining; this wasn't newsworthy to Camille. If anything, magazines, newspapers and news reports should be discussing what really matters –the system, the rape kit backlog, victims of trauma- they should be discussing things that actually affect the personal lives of many people –famous or not- the real news is in the hearts, the streets and the lives of those who aren't in the public eye. The more she thought about it, the more it upset her, but fortunately, there was a knock at the door that served as a welcomed distraction. She shut the magazine and tossed it onto the dining room table, before standing, straightening out the apron tied around her waist and approaching the front door.

Her hand hovers above the doorknob, "Who is it?"

"It's Adam," Ruzek answers; pacing on the outside porch of his friends' home. His palms are sweaty and his throat is dry. He came to see Erin and now that he's outside her home; he's nervous, he's absolutely petrified. That woman scares him sometimes. Adam stops pacing the second the door opens, "I was on my way back to the district and I decided to stop by."

Camille steps to the side to let him in, "Well, dinner should be ready soon. You can stay and eat if you would like. I made enough to feed an army. We're not going to be able to eat all of it. We can actually invite the whole squad over and-"

"I proposed to Burgess!" Ruzek blurts out without a second thought. He had to tell someone. He didn't think Camille would be the first person he told, but he had to get it off his chest. He needs advice. He hears the front door shut behind him and locked.

Camille's mouth is agape, "I'm happy for you," She pats his shoulder and squeezes it reassuringly, "What was her answer? She said yes, right?"

"She said she'll think about it," Adam shoves his hands into his back pockets; he follows Camille into the adjoined kitchen and dining room. He sits in the seat she offers, "She didn't say no, but she didn't say yes either. She wants to think about it, but I know that's only code for let me see what Erin thinks, which one can argue can be translated into a no. Erin is not agreeing."

"Why do you need Erin's permission?"

"I don't," Ruzek argues; his fist slamming against the dining room table, "but Burgess thinks she does. Apparently, Erin can read people pretty well. Every piece of advice she has given to Kim, she has followed, except when it came to me. And the moment Kim didn't listen, Erin was attacked. I don't know what's going through Kim's head, but she obviously linked the two unrelated things together. Kim wants to run the proposal pass Erin and from my last conversation with her, I know she's going to say no."

The mother presses her lips together –frustrated dimples piercing through her cheeks- as she walks over to the banister. She takes one step up, and looks to the above level, "Erin!" Her voice calls out as she glances over to Ruzek briefly, "Erin! Please come here!" She gets no answer. All she receives in response is silence. Camille sighs and walks down the one step she walked up on. Her hand remained on the banister as she pulls her cell phone out of her pocket. Since Erin received a new phone the day before, Camille had been texting her nonstop. She sends her daughter a text to come downstairs and within minutes –more like seconds- she sees her daughter casually walking down the steps.

Camille is leaning against the counter, "You know Ruzek, I just made an interesting discovery," her eyes follow her daughter as Erin goes into the refrigerator and pulls out a water bottle, "I can text my child and get a response faster than if I verbally called out her name."

"I was getting ready," Erin responds before taking a small sip of her water, "Something smells good…I'm starving."

"It'll be ready in a few minutes." Camille responds, watching her daughter peek into the oven.

Erin sets her water bottle down, and eyes Ruzek in her peripheral, "What's going on?"

"Ruzek proposed to Burgess," Camille answers; observing her daughter's reaction as she informs her, "Kim needed time to think about it. He never got a direct answer."

"Hmm," Erin shrugs, and pulls a seat out, "I feel good," she swiftly changes the subject, "I feel great! I had the best sleep ever. I feel really good."

"That's nice sweetheart," her mother pats her shoulder, "Ruzek is here because he says Burgess is going to come talk to you to get your opinion on the proposal. It would help them both if they had your approval."

"She wants to marry him?" Erin questions; her head nodding in the direction of Ruzek. He's glaring at her; he's furious, "...then I guess she should marry him."

"Why do I never know where I stand with you?" He rises to his feet; he has had enough. He loves Burgess; he wants to marry her; why can't Erin understand and see that?

Erin remains calm, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You called me a cheat-"

"…because you are," she interrupts.

Ruzek defends himself, "I'm not that guy anymore! And I'm not going to apologize for being me. I'm just sorry you can't accept me for who I am."

"You've been engaged before…three times," she holds up three fingers to emphasize her point, "Your last engagement ended because you cheated on her _with Burgess_!"

"I am who I am. Deal with it!"

"How does one deal with a cheat?!" Erin shouts; rising to her feet. They're both standing –inches apart- his face red in anger and hers remain stoic and unreadable.

"I'm not that guy anymore! I know I made mistakes, but I'm not that boy anymore. I'm a man…a man who loves Kim with all I have."

Erin looks over to her mother; she's purposely remaining out of it. Camille has her opinion, but unless asked, she has no intention of sharing it. She watches her daughter's shoulders relax and she sighs loudly, "I don't want to argue. I'm in too good of a mood to allow you to ruin it." Erin looks over to her mother and watches her remove the food from the over, "I finally got a goodnight's sleep. I feel relaxed and recharged and arguing is just going to exhaust me."

Adam calms down, "What do I have to do to get you to like me?"

"You can't hurt her."

"I won't," Adam assures, approaching her. He feels like he's getting somewhere; she's actually listening to him and speaking out of reason and not emotion.

"If you hurt her, I'll hurt you."

"You have my word."

"I know what it feels like to think someone you love and trust is cheating on you. I may be a little mad at Kim right now, but I still care about her."

"Can we call a truce?" He extends his hand in her direction.

"You better not even think about cheating on her," Erin shakes his hand and nods, "We have a truce and you have my approval."

Camille claps, "that's great!"

"I appreciate the approval, but can you tell Kim that?"

"Why?" Erin grabs her water bottle; she takes another small sip.

"She really needs your approval," Adam responds, tucking his hands back into his back pockets.

"My approval," Erin repeats, pointing towards herself and the moment he nods, she rolls her eyes, "My opinion shouldn't matter. You shouldn't need my approval. If Burgess wants to marry you, nothing should be holding her back." She glanced at her mother briefly before focusing back on him, "When Jay proposed to me, my parents didn't approve right away," Camille nods to back up her daughter's statement, "They advised me against accepting his proposal; they told me to wait. They thought we were too young, but I didn't let that stop me. I said yes because I wanted to say yes. It was mine and Jay's relationship. No one else was involved. You can tell her that she has my approval, but you should also tell her that she doesn't need it. Let her know that she can't use me as an excuse as to why she doesn't want to get married."

As everyone already knows, Erin can read through people and situations. She knows why Kim didn't answer; she didn't want to get married. She was scared. Erin sent a quick wave of the hand to him as he jogged out of the house. Ruzek and Burgess needed to have a nice, long discussion. Erin sits once again at the table, "What's with that look?"

"I like this side of you," Camille mentions, reaching into the cabinet to grab plates, "It's nice…and what you said to Ruzek was true. It was what he needed to hear."

"Thanks."

Camille sets the plates down onto the table, "What are you doing for the rest of the day?" She ventures to the drawer in order to grab silverware.

"I'm going to look into a support group," Erin answers, taking another sip of her cold water.

Her mother sets the silverware down onto the table, "I do want you to continue to see Dr. Charles though."

"I will," Erin stares down at her empty plate as her mom brings over the food dish, "I like feeling this way and I know it isn't permanent, at least not yet, so I want to do everything possible to get me back to feeling like I do right now." She inhales the aroma of the food as her mother pulls off the lid, "I just need to talk to people and to listen to people who have been through what I've been through. No offense to you guys, but you don't understand. I need to see people who do."


	10. Two Weeks

The next week seemed to have flown right on by; two weeks wasn't enough time. It was a mere fourteen days that seemed to flash by in an instant second. It's not the time it takes for a difficult case to be solved and it's definitely not the time it takes for a traumatized person to heal. It had been two weeks since her attack and it felt lesser than that; it felt like her attack was at least a week ago; not two whole weeks. In the last week, Erin divided her time between being at home with her overbearing and overprotective mother, visiting Dr. Charles and the occasional opportunity she had to venture out into downtown Chicago with her husband. Erin is scheduled to attend her first support group meeting in a few days; while she's nervous and on edge about how it'll all play out, she's confident that it's something she needs to do, it's a part of healing.

Erin unlocked the front door to her home and stepped into the spotless house. It was absolutely dustless, untarnished and immaculately clean. While Erin was at her checkup, her mother must have passed the time by cleaning up. Erin set her purse down and walked further into the house. She heard the voices of her mother and Sergeant Platt in the living room, and in that moment, Erin knew she had two choices; she could either sneak her way upstairs or join in on the conversation. It wasn't really much of a decision; she immediately turned towards the staircase and started tiptoeing her way towards it.

"Where are you going?" She hears her mother's voice call out.

Leave it to Camille to be able to hear every tiptoe, breath and slight movement coming from her. As a child, she could never get away with anything. Her dad could read her like an opened book and her mother heard absolutely everything. She had impeccable hearing that Erin found herself wishing that it wasn't so perfect sometimes.

"I'm coming to the living room, I just wanted to grab something to drink from the kitchen," she lied easily; there was no hesitation and no time to think. She said it with such ease because with an overbearing mother and a cop father, she picked up a few skills to get around their suspicious looks and inquisitorial questions.

"I made fresh lemonade. It's in here. Come get some," Camille called out to her daughter. She's sitting next to Platt –both with partially full glasses of lemonade in front of them- and as she waits for her daughter to walk in, she pours her a glass, "How was your checkup?"

Erin walks into the living room, "It was fine. They drew blood."

"Blood for what?" Her mother inquires, handing her the glass of freshly squeezed lemonade.

"…a pregnancy test," Erin sets the glass down. She avoids eye contact with both her mother and the sergeant as she sits in the arm chair. She didn't want to talk about it. She had completely forgotten that just because the first test came back negative didn't mean she wasn't pregnant. Erin had honestly thought that all of this was being put behind her. She assumed the only thing that would stop her from moving on was her emotions; not a possible baby.

Neither Camille nor Platt knew what to say; they didn't know how to respond. The sergeant meets Camille's eyes, and both are waiting for the other to speak. What do you say? How can they assure her that it's all over when it's not? She has to wait –and waiting is the worst- but it has to be done in order to get closure. Platt stands up and crosses the living room. She takes a seat against the arm of the chair Erin is resting in, "How are you? How have you been doing?" It was the first thing she could think of to say.

"I'm just taking each day one panic attack at a time."

"I don't know if that's a good or bad thing," Platt chuckles, rubbing the younger woman's back comfortingly, "but what I do know is that you're strong and resilient and if anyone can get through this, it's definitely you."

"How are you handling all of it?" Camille pries, she scoots to the edge of her seat, and leans forward –her elbows on her knees- she patiently waits for a response, "What's honestly going through your mind right now? Maybe one of us can offer some advice…"

Erin sighs, "I can't stop thinking about that pregnancy test."

"Don't worry yourself," Platt responds –raising from her seat- it was getting uncomfortable, "you'll drive yourself crazy."

"I think it's too late for that," Erin clears her throat; fighting back the sound of despondency.

Camille stands, "There's no news, right? And what do people say about no news?"

"Whoever said that no news is good news is an idiot! I mean, no news leaves my imagination way too many scenarios to contemplate right now!" She uncontrollably snaps –her eyes wide and her face flushed red- Erin storms out of the living room, -lemonade forgotten- and stomps towards the front door at the sound of a light knock. She didn't feel like entertaining company.

It had been two weeks; that was the time frame her father gave her. She hadn't heard anything about an arrest, so that means Erin could help out. It was their agreement. She couldn't sit on the sidelines any longer and wait to hear word about her attack; she needed to do something productive, something that could catch him, and sitting on her hands watching the clock wasn't cutting it. Erin swings the front door open, and to her surprise it's Dr. Charles standing on the other side. He's dressed in a suit –his usual white jacket nowhere in sight- he smiles, "Hey."

"What are you doing here?" She's irritated. Erin hoped no one called him. She's had enough of talking about her feelings and thoughts. Erin remains standing in the doorway; she had no intention of letting him in, "I didn't think we had a session today."

"We don't," he nods towards the door, "May I come in?"

Erin feels a light hand on her back, "I'm going to be heading out. I have to get back to work." She hears Platt whisper, and seconds following her exit, Dr. Charles walks in.

"You never answered my question," Erin asserts; she has been in a good mood and she doesn't want to lose it. It seems to take more effort for her to be happy than it does for her to be unemotional and detached. Her arms cross against her chest as she waits, "What are you doing here Dr. Charles?"

"I saw you leaving the hospital."

Her brows furrow, "You followed me home?"

"No," he shakes his head, "your address is on file."

Erin remained confused; she still didn't understand, "That doesn't explain what you're doing here. We're not scheduled for a session today."

"I know. I saw you leaving the hospital and you looked like you needed a session, so I came by."

That earned her silence. It was the truth. And she couldn't argue with the truth. She did need a session. She needed one bad. Erin's face scrunched together, she bit her bottom lip and nodded in the direction of the living room. She wanted him to follow. There's quickness in Erin's step; she's ready to get this started; she had some serious things she needed to get off her chest. Sometimes speaking to a third party person who won't judge you or what you say is comforting. After this is all over, he'll leave; she won't have to worry about seeing him every day, on holidays and birthdays, or even at work. She sees Dr. Charles on her terms, and that's what makes talking to him easier than talking to her parents or friends.

"Mom, I need the living room," Erin announces; Camille's eyes spot Dr. Charles and without an argument, she grabs her cell phone and heads upstairs. Erin smiles at the doctor, "Lemonade?"

He sits down, "No thank you."

"So," Dr. Charles clasps his hands over his lap, "Talk me through what you're thinking…"

"I am alive." She states matter-of-factly, "I am loved. So I should be happy." Erin takes a seat beside the psychologist, "And I think I am, but I'm not sure." The assertion in her voice falters; she doubts herself, "I can't remember what it feels like to be genuinely happy."

"Happiness is indescribable. You can't explain it. You just feel it."

"Yeah, I just wish I remembered what it felt like completely."

"What happened at the hospital?" Dr. Charles reverts back to why he decided to show up in the first place. Something happened today, and that's what he wants to focus on.

"I went in for a checkup."

"Why did you storm out like you received some bad news?" He watches her lift up her glass of lemonade; her hand is trembling as she brings it to her mouth to take a sip. Something is on her mind and it's causing her nerves to rise, but he continues anyway, "Did you receive bad news?"

"No."

"…then what happened?" He pries; Dr. Charles is here to help her feel better. He's not here to pass judgment, to ridicule, or to make fun. He needs to know the problem in order to help her overcome whatever it is.

She sets her glass down before admitting, "I had to get blood drawn for a pregnancy test."

"And you want it to be negative?"

"I need it to be negative." She corrects; Erin positions herself to face him; she wants to read him and give him an opportunity to read her, "If I'm pregnant, it's not my husband's baby!" Her voice breaks; it completely shatters. She's not crying, but she's definitely close to it.

"You have to think positive Erin. You won't get more than you can handle."

"That doesn't comfort me. That doesn't help me at all!" She shouts; Erin stands up and steps away from the psychologist, "I thought all of that was behind me!"

"You have to try and keep it behind you." He rises to his feet as well, "It's not in your future; it's in your past. We have to leave it there."

Erin's opened palm covers her mouth; she's holding in her tears with every fiber of her being. Every part of her is breaking down –she feels it- her insides are crumbling. She's absolutely terrified at the thought of what the future held for her. She didn't want to know. If only she could freeze time, it'll make life so much easier. Erin sees the compassion on his face –he's waiting- he's patiently holding out for her to say something. Technically this wasn't a scheduled session, but he had nowhere else to be. She could use as much of his time as she needed. He doesn't do this for the money, he does it to help and make a difference in someone's life. He hears a breakage in her raspy voice; he knows she's about to speak and he looks up –anticipating- waiting once more to hear whatever she has to say.

"I hate it when I think nothing else can go wrong and then I find out that there is a whole new level of wrongness that I haven't even found out about yet!" Her voice shouts; she's pretty sure her mother can hear her, but she doesn't care, "Everything just keeps getting worse!"

"Erin-"

"I could be pregnant with my rapist's child!" This; this statement is what breaks her. It's what weakens her knees; it's what causes her to fall to the ground. It's what forces her hands to cover her face. It's what curls her body together. She's making herself seem small. Her knees to her chest and her arms around her legs, she buries her face into her lap, doing everything in her power to mentally escape from reality.

"You also could not be pregnant." Dr. Charles offered the alternative. He's hesitant to approach her; he's unaware of how she'll react, but he walks towards her anyway, "What I'm trying to say is Erin, you don't know yet. You don't know." He's standing beside her; looking down at her small body, "However, you do need to prepare yourself. I don't want to lie to you. I want to assure you that you'll get the results you want, but I can't."

She looks up briefly, "…well, that's comforting." Her head buries back into her lap.

"Erin-"

"I'm on a rollercoaster ride of emotions." Her voice is muffled by her buried face, but he can still make out what she's saying. He's listening to her carefully, "I'm practically bipolar right now because one second I'm fine and content, and the next I'm either crying or pissed off." She looks up again, brushing loose strands of her brunette hair behind her ear, "Everyone, but you Dr. Charles, has gotten on my nerves at least once. I'm actually pretty sure that I have no nerves left! Everyone and everything is currently already on them."

"Erin-"

"At the rate my unfortunate bad luck is going right now, that test is probably going to come back positive."

"Erin-"

"If it's negative, I honestly don't know what I'll do. It'll be the best news...which sounds really sad," She cracks a smile as the tears trickling down her face fall into the cracks on her lips, "However, I'm starting to get used to all the bad things in life that I don't know what to do when something good happens. What do you do? What's the appropriate way to react?"

"Erin-"

"If I'm pregnant Dr. Charles, I can't expect my husband to stick around. That's not his responsibility. He'll probably go running for the hills and I wouldn't blame him." She interrupts him once again. She crosses her arms atop her legs, and rests her chin upon them, "If I have this kid, I won't be able to look it in the eye. I won't be able to mother it. I won't be able to bear it mentally and emotionally. I'm calling it an it Dr. Charles! I can't do this!"

Dr. Charles grabs Erin gently by the arm and tugs her back onto her feet. He practically lifted her up himself; she was deadweight who had no intention of standing up. Erin snatches her arm out of his hold and walks over to the window; it looks out into her backyard.

"Erin, you're getting ahead of yourself right now." Dr. Charles approaches her, "Remember, we talked about your inclination to jump to conclusions." He stands next to her as they both peer out of the window.

"Yeah, and I told you I didn't care. And If I didn't care last week, why would I care today?"

"Because like I said last week, it's going to drive you out of your mind; you'll go crazy and it'll affect your physical health sooner or later."

Her eyes drift from the view outside and averts to a side-glance towards Dr. Charles, "I do care." She quietly admits; it's all part of her rollercoaster ride of emotions, "I just…it's easier not to care, you know?"

"I do."

"I have a lot of baggage right now that no one should have to carry, but me. I just…I need someone to tell me that I'm worth it." Erin presses her lips together; her dimples piercing through, "I'm worth the fight and I'm definitely worth the wait because that's all everyone is doing right now…they're waiting; they're waiting for the real Erin to come back."

"You are the real Erin."

She quickly retorts, "No I'm not."

"You are…you're just improving."

She blankly repeats, "I'm improving?"

Dr. Charles turns her around completely –his hands on her shoulders- he's holding her still and keeping her eyes focused on him, "Stuff like what happened makes us stronger…it's making you stronger and that's what you'll eventually realize."

She pleads, "…but if I have his baby-"

"Until you get your results, you need to focus on something else. You'll drive yourself crazy thinking about that test. Just wait for your results."

Erin smacks his arms away; this was the problem, he doesn't understand. How can one think about anything else when something like this will change their life forever? She can't focus on something else. She forgot this was even a problem –even a possibility- until the doctor requested her blood to be drawn for a potential pregnancy. This is all ridiculous. It's Murphy's Law all over again. Something went bad and now it's starting to get worse. There's nothing that comes to mind that could possibly take her mind off of all of this. Erin's hand presses against the window, she's looking out onto the patio, "All I'm doing is worrying about things I can't control Dr. Charles!" The hand resting against the window clenches into a fist, "I can't think about anything else."

"Do something else then."

She turns to face him, "Like what?" Her eyes are scrunched together in disbelief.

"Do something that'll take your mind off of the pregnancy test."

"There is absolutely noth-" Erin silences herself. She had completely forgotten. With her mom, Platt and Dr. Charles filling her time, it had slipped from her mind. She was supposed to go to the district. She was supposed to help out with her case. Erin pats his shoulder, "You're right."

"That was easier than I thought," He watches her grab her glass of lemonade and chug down the remainder of her drink –it wasn't much left- it was just enough to quench her thirst.

She sets her empty glass down, "I have to go."

"I'll see you in two days, right?" He gets the hint. If this was a session, it would have been ended. They usually talk for at least an hour, and no more than two.

She waves him away, "…yeah…yeah you will."

"You can call me anytime you want. My phone is always on." Dr. Charles is backing away towards the front door. He sees her put the pitcher of lemonade in the fridge before racing over to the bottom of the stairwell.

"Thank you Dr. Charles." She grabs the banister, "Mom, I'm heading out."

"I'll come with…" Camille calls back down.

Erin hears the front door close; the doctor is gone. She turns back to the stairwell to see her mother standing at the top of the staircase. She didn't want her mother to go. Her mother didn't know about this. Camille would get in the way and Erin couldn't have that. She backs away from her mother, and grabs her purse, "No…no, I want to go alone. I need to clear my mind." Erin backs up slowly towards the front door, "No offense to you mom, but I just need a break."

"Okay," Camille handles that better than she expected, "I guess I'll stay here and start dinner."

"Thanks." Erin's acknowledgement is quickly shut off by the slamming of the front door. She's in a hurry, and Camille had become used to being left alone. This wasn't Erin's first time getting out of the house without her, and when she spoke to Dr. Charles, she learned it was normal, and healthy for Erin to have space. It allowed for her to come to terms with what happened, her thoughts and her reaction. Sometimes it's okay to be by yourself.

The time it took for Erin to get from her house to the precinct was pretty impressive. She's actually quite surprised she didn't receive a ticket; she knows she at least broke a few traffic laws. She should care, but if you were to ask her, she would be honest. She didn't care at all because she had somewhere to be. She had to help her dad and husband catch the man responsible for all of the shit she has been through in these last two weeks. She had better things to do than abide by traffic laws. It sounds horrible. It sounds reckless. Erin knew that if others were in her position, they would understand; they would get it…at least, she hoped they would.

Erin thanked a rookie cop who enthusiastically ran to the front door of the precinct and held it open for her. She thanked the same officer once again when he ran up the few stairs and held open the second door. He was new. Of all the years her dad has worked here, and she visited, she has never seen him before. He sent her a bright smile and a nod of the head.

"Hey Erin…long time no see."

The rookie cop is long forgotten as she turns to approach the front desk, "Yeah, I had forgotten that I was supposed to come here to meet up with my dad and Jay." She nudges her thumb in the direction of the gate, "Can you buzz me up?"

"I sure can, but the squad isn't here right now."

Erin's brows creased, "Do you know how long they will be out?"

"I'm not sure." Platt shakes her head.

"Can you buzz me up anyway?"

"Of course kiddo," Platt presses down upon the button. The sound of the gate mechanically unlocking echoed through the lobby.

Erin opens the gate, "Thanks." She shuts it behind her tightly and securely.

As she takes each stair –one by one- her hand trails up the railing. It's quiet. When Platt said the squad wasn't here, she literally meant everyone, not even Mouse was sitting behind his desk. Erin arrives to the top stair and scans around the bullpen. She has never been here alone before. Usually she's accompanied by her dad, Jay, or someone else from the team. Erin walks along the aisle, her eyes falling to the desk of each person who works under her dad. The silence of the bullpen begs for noise. It needs sound. She approaches her husband's desk and smiles down at the three framed photos of him and her. They were positioned at different areas along the brown desk; they're shown proudly, almost in a bragging fashion. And she couldn't help but smile at that. He's happy to be her husband. He wants everyone to know just how happy he is.

She turns away from his desk with her eyes focused on her father's closed office door. Erin figures she can just sit in his office until he returns; however, her plan is foiled the second her eyes fall onto the white board. There are two photos pinned up on the board –one of Ally and one of Ben- and written below the photos is information consisting of full name, age, date of birth, and links to the murders of three men. The photos of the three men are listed under victims, and information such as their full name, age, date of birth, date of death and the location their body was found. Erin's eyes pull away from the photos of the victims; she can't look at that. Her eyes focus back on Ally; the reddish long hair, the bright smile and the brown eyes angered her. Ally had no idea that while the Intelligence Unit is after her and her boyfriend, Erin is also after her.

Images of that night flash through her mind. They haven't played through since the day she was discharged from the hospital. She saw Ally –standing in her underclothes- practically throwing herself at her husband. She had a boyfriend. She was in a relationship yet that wasn't good enough for her. She had to come after Erin's man and that wasn't okay. Erin felt the anger bubbling up in the pit of her stomach; it simmered there just at the sight of the photo. She immediately backed away. She couldn't bear to look at it anymore, however, the moment she stepped back, her body slammed into a hard chest.

A high-pitched scream erupts through the bullpen, but its silenced seconds after her husband turns her around to face him. He's wide-eyed. He's cupping her face and staring into her equally wide eyes, "What are you doing here?"

Voight is beside her; he's similarly concerned, "Yeah kid, why didn't you call first? Is everything okay? How's your mom? What happened?"

"It's been two weeks," Erin responds; she says it in a manner that should click for the two of them. Two weeks was the deadline. It was the time limit her father placed on them working together. She didn't come up with it; he did, so he should remember.

Hank sighs –shaking his head- as he tucks his hands in his front pockets, "Kid, let's just-"

"No," she holds up her pointer finger, "No. Dad, you can't. You are not benching me before I even get a chance to play!"

"This isn't a game," Voight argued; a stress vein arising on his forehead.

"We are not who we are because of what has been done to us!" She shouts; Erin wouldn't be surprised if the officers downstairs heard their argument; a part of her wanted them to so they would stop looking at her as some sucker who gives in without a fight, "We are who we are because of how we choose to respond to it! This is how I want to respond to it…I want to help! Just let me! Please!"

Jay is confused. He's looking between his wife and his father-in-law; Jay has absolutely no idea about what's going on, "What is this about?"

"I'm here to help." She turns to face her husband, maybe he wouldn't put up much of a dispute.

"…absolutely not! You can't join this investigation."

"I am an adult! I can make my own decisions!"

Voight rubs the bottom of his jaw, "Erin, you're not thinking straight. Come on and-"

"Don't criticize me because I'm not doing what you want me to do! We had an agreement!" She snaps in return; this was the agreement, the only reason he's even backing down on it was because he failed to capture this guy in two weeks like he originally assumed he would.

Erin turned to Jay. His mouth opened and closed soon after. He was debating over the right words to say. She was already upset, he didn't want to further her anger.

"Erin, your dad is right." The words Jay uttered were the words she hated the most. Voight loved hearing those words and she hated giving her dad the satisfaction in hearing them.

"You can't bench me either!"

"Erin, it's dangerous!"

She stands in disbelief; they can't be serious right now. This was the agreement she had made with her father, he can't back out; he can't take back his word. Erin turns to find Jay; her face red in anger, "No it's not! It's not dangerous…not if I'm here! I'll stay here! You have my word! No one is brave enough to come into a precinct and hurt me. We don't even know if I'm a target. That's all speculation! And speculation is weak, that argument wouldn't even hold up in court. I can help from the bullpen. I don't want to go out and question a suspect…that's your job!"

"This is our job too." Jay metaphorically puts his foot down. He couldn't protect her then, but he has every intention of protecting her now.

"…but you're slacking!" A silence falls over the bullpen. Voight and Halstead are quiet, and Erin lowers her voice to respond once more, "He's still out there. He could have hurt other women. He's free and until he's caught he'll be a threat to every woman who's alone."

Voight sets his hand on her shoulder, "Not for long,"

"Did you find something?" She turns away from her husband in order to meet her father's eyes, "Do you know who did this?"

The second the question is posed, she hears a familiar masculine voice clear. Erin freezes; she recognizes that voice. Erin steps around her father and husband to meet the eyes of a man she thought she would never see again.

"What's he doing here?"

"What's she doing here?"

The questions are posed at the same time. Erin is staring at Chad and he's staring at her. She wanted the almost hookup to be a forgotten memory, but that was highly impossible with him standing right in front of her. She told her dad that Chad wasn't involved, yet he was here.

"What's he doing here?" Erin restates her question; she ignores the awkwardness in the room existent due to her husband's presence. She knew it was awkward for him to see the guy she almost hooked up with; Chad's presence was awkward for her too.

"He's here for questioning," Voight waves for Chad to follow him.

Erin looks at her husband, "Question him about what?" Jay doesn't answer the question; he goes to follow behind Voight. Erin is quick on her feet and moves to follow them. Voight hands the suspect off to Halstead and waits for him to push him into the interrogation room.

Voight asserts, "Go home."

"He had nothing to do with this," She pleads for him to believe her, "Please don't question him!"

"Why are you trying to protect him?"

Her voice lowers, "…because Jay doesn't need to hear the details about how I almost hooked up with him. Chad had nothing to do with this. I promise you that. Please don't subject me to more embarrassment."

"We have nothing else to go off of."

She quips, "And that's why you need my help! You'll get nowhere questioning him! He doesn't know anything!"

"I prefer to find that out for myself," and without another word, Hank disappears into the interrogation room.

Erin is left standing alone in the hallway. She hears chairs dragging in the interrogation room. She knew her father was prepared to search for information that Chad possibly doesn't know, but what if he did know something? Something in the investigation could have led her dad to even calling Chad here for questioning. Erin presses her ear against the door and hears nothing. Her eyes land upon the door leading to the room that connects the one-way mirror. Erin raced to the door, pulled out a hairpin and picked the lock. When the door opened, she sighed and smiled in success. Silently stepping inside, she closed the door behind her and approached the mirror. Chad is sitting on the side of the table facing her –he's nervous- and Voight and Halstead are sitting on the other side with their backs to her.

"What's going on?" Chad's voice wavers; he watches the sergeant open up a folder and sift through the papers, "Why did you need me to come in?"

"We just want to ask you some questions," Voight pulls out a photo; it's of Erin, and he extends it out to Chad, "Do you know her?"

"Yeah…I mean," Chad shrugs; his throat is dry in nervousness, "I don't know her name, but I know her. She was the girl out there."

"You met her at Mollys'?" Voight is the main one questioning; Erin notices Jay shift in his seat.

"Yeah."

"While there, did you happen to notice anyone take a liking to her?"

"…no."

"You left out of Mollys' with her?"

"Yeah."

Voight sits back; arms crossed over his chest, "Did you happen to notice anything strange or suspicious?"

"Like what?"

Voight ignores his question and continues to inquire more, "Or did you happen to partake in something that you shouldn't have?"

Chad runs his hand through his hair, "Like what?"

"Are you sure you didn't pick up the man after he finished raping a defenseless woman?" Chad sits up the second Hank finishes his first question, "Did you set her up?" Hank continues to pry; he notices the shift in body language; "Was this all a part of the plan?"

"What?! Man, you have the wrong guy!" Chad is pleading for Voight to believe him; his eyes fall between the sergeant and the detective, "That woman out there," Chad's jittery hand points towards the door, "She was the defenseless woman who was raped?"

Hank doesn't answer. He simply rises from his seat and kicks his chair away. Hank knows his daughter is watching; he knows if the roles were reversed, he would be watching. He walks around the table and sits against the edge, "Why did you lure my daughter out of the bar?"

"She's your daughter?!" Chad isn't answering the questions, not because he has anything to hide, he's just caught off guard. He thought that night was behind him. He didn't think that upon hearing Chicago PD wants to question him that it'll be about that specific night.

"Yeah, and I'm pretty sure you knew that, right Chad?" Voight leans forward and grips the suspect by the jaw, "Was that the reason you chose her?"

Chad struggles to shake his head, "What…no?"

"…then why did you pick her?" Voight pulls the man to his feet and forcibly slams his back into the wall. He's fuming in anger; he needs answers; he has to get answers so he can get Erin some type of closure. His hand tightened around Chad's jaw, "Out of everyone in that bar, why did you choose Erin? Why did you pick her?"

Chad is shaking his head; the cool and calm demeanor that Erin met weeks ago was gone, in its place was a scared and terrified man, "I'm innocent. I didn't hurt her. I had nothing to do with what happened! I swear! I swear man! I didn't even know her name!"

Voight repeats his earlier question; he wouldn't let it go until he received an answer, "Why did you choose Erin? Why did you pick _my_ daughter?"

Erin listens intently –both of her hands resting against the glass- she's biting her tongue as she waits for his honest answer. Did he have anything to do with what happened? Was she just naïve to think that the one person who comforted her that night had zero bad intentions?

"I was just looking for some fun," Chad admitted; his back squirming against the plastered wall, "I just wanted some fun; a hot hookup and then I saw her crying at the bar."

"So you figured," Erin's eyes pull away from Chad and her dad at the sound of Jay's voice; he sounds even angrier than her father. He's slowly standing from his seat and her voice hitches; she actually fears for Chad right now, "You thought it would be fun to take advantage of a vulnerable woman who was obviously going through something?"

"It wasn't like that."

"THEN WHAT WAS IT LIKE?!" Jay screams from over Voight's shoulder; his hands are clenched into fists and a sudden rage came from nowhere and erupted out of him, "TELL ME!" Halstead struggles to calm down; his breathing is rugged, "Tell me what it was like to try and hook up with a married woman, with someone's wife; with MY wife."

Almost immediately, Chad's head whips in the detective's direction. Erin was the daughter of the sergeant currently pinning him to the wall and the wife of the detective who is currently fighting the urge to punch him. Of all the people he could have met, why did it have to be her? Chad is shaking his head fast; he's getting a headache from the quickness of his shuddering head. His hands fly to the air in a panic, "I didn't know that."

"You didn't know she was married?" Jay questions; he already knew the answer to the question, but he wanted to know whether or not Chad would lie to his face.

"I knew she was married," he admits honestly; and if he was being real, he would have admitted that he knew she was married to a detective, he just didn't assume that the detective questioning him was her husband. Chad's eyes fall to the ground, "I knew she was married to a detective. I just…I don't know."

"Why her," Jay questions; his fingers loosen and his fists unravel. He's slowly calming down.

"I saw her in the bar." Chad swallows dryly, "She was crying and drinking." He looks back and forth between the woman's father and husband, "I figured we both could benefit."

Voight responds, "By hooking up?"

"Yeah," He looks back to the fuming father; Voight releases him, "I would get my hot hookup and she'll be able to take her mind off of the man who hurt her." His eyes avoid Jay's orbs; both of them knowing who he was referring to, "She wanted it!" Chad asserts, straightening his posture –he licks his lips- while adjusting his tense shoulders, "She was just as willing as I was to get out of that bar! She practically begged me to have sex with-" His sentence is immediately cut off by the sharp and severe impact of Halstead's fist.

Erin watched the entire thing; it all happened so fast. She normally was against this type of thing, but she didn't care. Chad was lying. She didn't beg him for anything. He was saying all of that to get under her husband's skin. He was lying to make himself look better; he didn't want to look like the creep he is. The truth is, Chad saw an inconsolable and heartbroken woman crying in a dark corner of a bar by herself and he set his sights upon her; he thought he was going to get lucky that night. He was sweet and kind and he provided an ear to listen all for the purpose of getting her in bed; that was the truth. By the third punch, her father felt forced to pull Jay away.

"When I kissed her, she kissed me back! She wanted it!" Chad wipes the drops of blood from his bottom lip, "It's the truth!" He spits out, "I didn't take advantage of anyone! When she said stop, I stopped, but when we made out against the side of my car-"

Jay snarls, "That's enough." He didn't want to hear the details. What husband would want to hear the nitty-gritty details of how their wife made out with another man?

"That girl…Erin…whatever her name is, she wanted it just as much as I did."

"Get out," Voight points towards the exit, "Get out of here before I release the pent up anger I have for her attacker on you."

Chad may not have known Voight, but just by looking in his eyes, he knew the sergeant was serious. He jumped away and moved through the officers. Chad stepped out of the interrogation room, and saw Erin standing in the hallway. Chad usually never saw the females he hooked up with, or almost hooked up with again. This was a first; she was a first. It was an awkward encounter at first. He didn't know what to say and neither did she. Erin chose to simply step to the side as he nodded his head in her direction. It was quick, it got to the point, and he was soon enough out of sight. Erin turned to face the opened door of the interrogation room. Her dad was sitting against the edge of the table as Jay paced back and forth across the small room.

"He's an ass," Erin mutters; her quip breaks the tension in the room and pulls a soft smile on her father's face, "I don't even know what I saw in the guy."

"…an opportunity," Jay affirms, his pacing speed slowly increases.

"I didn't beg for anything," Erin's looking at Jay; she knows this is hard for him. She basically walked out on him at the thought of him cheating on her, yet here she stood, pleading with him after knowingly and purposefully cheating on him. She licked her lips in uncertainty; stalling while thinking of the next thing to say, "I know apologizing doesn't excuse what I did, but I am sorry. You apologized to me for basically doing nothing. It's only right that I apologize to you after deliberately doing something."

"Erin-"

"I wanted to hurt you," she cuts him off before he has the chance to assure her. She knows her husband and she knows that's exactly what he was going to do. He was going to brush it off and act like it's okay, but she knows, and she knows it isn't. You don't get back at someone by hurting them, especially someone you love. It's no excuse. Erin steps into the interrogation room, "I was angry and hurt and all I could think about was getting back at you."

"…by sleeping with some other guy?" Jay's voice is calm; he doesn't want to be upset at her, but he can't help it. He can't help the emotions bubbling within him, "You couldn't just…I don't know," he shrugs and throws his hands into the air, "slash my tires or break the windows of my car like other women usually do?"

"I didn't sleep with him! And destroying your car wouldn't have solved anything…"

Jay squints his eyes, "…but hooking up with a stranger would have."

"I'm sorry!"

"I know, and I forgive you. I'm not mad at you. None of this changes anything. We're still okay, it's just," his voice lowers. He's using the few seconds that he pauses as a chance to gather the appropriate way to respond, "Actually seeing the guy made it more real. I pictured it. I saw his hands on you. I saw you kissing him."

"I broke it off," her voice is low; tears are piercing her eyes, "I couldn't sleep with him."

"…you wanted to though," Jay begins walking towards the exit of the interrogation room. However, his heart pulls him to an abrupt stop. He's standing next to Erin; he's calm, and he grabs the back of her head to place a light kiss against her forehead. He wanted her to know he isn't mad. He still loves her and he'll eventually get over it. He just needed time like she did.

Halstead left out of the room, leaving a confused Erin standing in place. She didn't know where they stood. He wasn't mad at her, he was just upset. He was still speaking to her, but he needed to walk out. Erin turned to look at her father, "What's wrong with me?"

"You're strong kiddo." Voight waves her over, "You're the strongest person I know." He's comforting; he watches each hesitant step she takes towards him, "And most kids look up to their parents, but not me, I really look up to you and how strong you are; it's amazing."

"Yeah, well," she nonchalantly shrugs off his compliment, "I get it from my parents."

He opens his arms, "Come here." And the moment she gets within arms distance, he pulls her into a hug, "Don't worry about Halstead. He'll get over it."

Loud chattering travels down the halls and eventually surrounds the interrogation room. The team was back. They were all out in the bullpen. Voight rises from his seated position, takes Erin's hand and pulls her out of the room.

"Dad, what's next?"

"What do you mean?" They're walking down the hall and soon arrive back to the bullpen.

She looks at Jay; he's avoiding eye contact, "Where does this leave us? We're stuck, right? We have nothing. Is this the end?"

"No," Voight asserts. The fallen silence in the bullpen leaves ample amounts of room for his boisterous voice to affirm. He's shaking his head, "Chad may have been no help, but we still have a good lead thanks to you."

"We're not giving up," Jay adds.

"Thanks to me?" Erin picks up on her father's last words, "What did I do?"

"You helped us realize that this perp knows me," Voight responded, he's backing away from her and heading in the direction of his office, "That's a start. That's a lead…and we're going to start working on it."

Erin remains standing in the center of the bullpen. She sees her dad and husband enter his office and he quietly closes the door behind them. She's had enough of this for one day. She'll be back, but she couldn't just jump headfirst into all this investigating. Erin needed a break already and she technically didn't even do anything.

"Hey Erin," Burgess greets, walking up the stairs to Intelligence.

The bullpen remains silent. She turns to watch her best friend approach her; her eyes couldn't help but fall upon her ringless finger, "Hi Burgess."

"I know you had a long day and I just got off," she's easing the question out. Each member of Intelligence is curious to hear what the question is and how Erin will respond to it. Burgess doesn't look in the direction of Ruzek; her eyes remained focused on Erin, "Did you want to go out and grab a glass of wine or something?"

It's silent. Burgess waits for a response. The stoic face of Erin stretches out into a relieved smile, "Screw the glass; I need to drink straight from the bottle."


	11. Shades of Fear

Support groups; or in other words a gathering for people who provide care and companionship to one another who share a common experience. They're comprised of people who have personally been through the problem themselves; they offer metaphorical and literal shoulders to lean and cry on. Because of the shared understanding they have for the issue, it comforts them all in knowing that someone truly does understand everything you're going through; they understand your thoughts, your actions, your beliefs, they currently understand you better than your own family and friends. Coming together provides an opportunity to feel less alone; you feel less isolated. It's a delicate subject, and the sensitive nature of it is already hard to talk about, but it makes it a little less difficult when you're surrounded by people who understand completely what you're saying. Your words, your emotions and your actions need no justification because they get it; they know.

Erin is the new girl in the support group; however she isn't the outsider. She isn't left feeling excluded or different. All of them, every single last person sitting in the semi-circle was brought together because of one inhumane act done upon them; sexual assault. Men and women from different walks of life, different pasts, different presents and different futures were all joined together because of a shared trauma. Different support groups focus on different issues or problems in one's life. She doesn't know how these things go; she doesn't know what to do and what to say; all she knows is she hopes it helps. Erin is nervous; what if she says the wrong thing, what if she reacts in the wrong way and what if she doesn't say anything at all. What if this is pointless, but what if this is exactly what she needs?

It has been ten minutes into her first support group meeting. The first few minutes were filled with small talk, eating from the snack table and choosing seats for the session. Erin had spoken to the facilitator –Susan- when she scheduled herself in for the support group meeting; she's a twenty year survivor of rape and now she spends her time hosting support groups, speaking at criminal justice reform conferences and advocating for sexual assault victims. She was a busy woman; Erin had met her briefly and already admired everything about her.

"As all of you have noticed," Susan rises from her seat –the meeting has officially started- and she began to speak, "we have a new survivor joining us today." She nods her head in Erin's direction, "How about you introduce yourself?"

She waves, "Hi. I'm Erin."

"Hi Erin," the greeting was spoken unanimously by everyone in the room.

"I…I uh," Erin clears her throat; this is uncomfortable for her, "I really don't know what to say."

Susan chimes in, "Tell us about yourself."

"I'm 27." She lists off facts –nothing personal- she's not there yet, "I'm married. I've been married for five years."

"What does your husband do?" The woman sitting next to her –Tanya- asks kindly. She's older, around the age of Erin's mother, and the smile on her face is comforting.

"He's a detective."

A young guy –Ronald- smirked and responded casually, "I bet this didn't bold well for him."

"I don't think this would have bolded well for anyone."

This wasn't what Erin expected; sure she didn't know exactly what to expect, but this wasn't it. The atmosphere was light, there was no pressure placed upon her and she liked that. Everyone spoke to her like nothing happened. They didn't coddle her or treat her like some fragile thing that could break at any second. Just from the short conversation, she knew she would find herself returning. With each meeting, she knew she'll eventually loosen and respond as casual and consoling as they are responding to her.

A woman sitting across from her –Jen- calls out her question, "What do you do?"

"I'm a public defender."

"That's ironic."

She turns to face Ronald after his remark, "What is?"

"You defend the people who are like the ones that did this to us."

"…not all the time," Erin comments; her gaze falling to the floor, "Sometimes they're innocent." Her eyes focus on the tiled floors; tracing each pattern in her attempt to avoid eye contact, "Sometimes they're guilty." She looks up and meets Ronald's eyes, "And sometimes I think about quitting, especially after the attack." A broken smile falls upon her face and she almost immediately wipes it away, "I'm not sure though. Now, I'm not sure about a lot of things."

It was the first time she mentioned the attack since she spoke. No one in the room wanted to brush upon the topic with her until she brought it up first. Sexual assault can range from different types of things, and different types of scales. Each person in the room has a different story to tell but it all comes together under one category; sexual assault. It was the large metaphorical elephant in the room. Everyone knew that each other had suffered some type of sexual assault, but for some, the details were still untold and unclear. No one is forced to speak. You share what you feel absolutely comfortable with sharing.

"What brought you here?" Susan took a hold of her seat; one leg crossed over the other and her hands were intertwined on top of her lap, "…besides the attack."

"I wanted to talk to people who understood," Erin uses her fingers to brush a few strands of hair behind her ear, "I feel like no matter how many times I talk to my parents, or my husband or my friends, they just don't get it. I want to talk to someone who does."

"That's what brought a lot of us here," Ronald nods in agreement. He leaned forward, and reached his arm over Tanya in order to pat Erin's shoulder. She wasn't the only one. They all had wanted that, and he couldn't speak for everyone in the room, but he knew most of the people here only signed up for that exact same reason.

From the feeling of Ronald's hand on her shoulder, they loosened. She relaxed. Her eyes closed and she sucked in a large breath of air before releasing it, "It's not their fault. I know that, but sometimes, I can't help but take out my anger on them."

"They're easy targets," Jen added; nodding along in understanding.

Susan chimes in, "Yeah, they're there all the time; they're easy targets and you need to let that anger and frustration out. I bet they don't hold it against you. They understand."

"They shouldn't have to though." Erin's voice rises and breaks, "Stuff like this shouldn't happen! Groups like this shouldn't even exist because the thing that brought us together shouldn't even be a thing; it shouldn't exist!" Erin is panting; she's out of breath, but it doesn't stop her outpouring of emotion, "Why do people have to do sick things? Because their life sucks, do they just wake up one day and decide to make someone else's life suck too? How can someone just do that? How can someone just be content in ruining someone else's life? Do they sleep at night? Because I can't; I can't sleep because of what some sicko did!" Her voice strengthens itself and she takes the opportunity to look around at everyone. No one is surprised by her outburst. No one is silently judging her. They're just letting her speak and they're all listening intently. Each set of eyes focused on her, and her tense shoulders relax once more, "I'm sorry," her lips press together and she apologetically shrugs, "I didn't mean to go on a rant. I should save that for my therapist."

"No, this is an open space," Susan corrects her; she's smiling kindly. Her face and voice almost as comforting and soothing as Tanya's, "we've all been there Erin. You can say whatever you like. Do not even hesitate."

Tanya shifts her body to face Erin, "Want to talk about it?"

"…the attack?" Erin looks at her.

She nods, "Yeah."

"There's not much to say." She responds; she has everyone's undivided attention. Their curiosity evident on their faces, "The guy is still out there…free, and hopefully not hurting other people."

"It's been four years for me and the guy who hurt me is still free too." Tanya responds; the wrinkles on her face crease deeper inwards as she tries to put on a brave face for the new girl.

Ronald clears his throat, "It's been six years for me. My wife got off. It's hard for the public to grasp spousal rape, especially when a female is the aggressor."

Erin didn't know if she was ready or not, but she wanted to give it a chance. It was one thing telling the police and her family about what happened, but all of these people were strangers. Before today, she has never seen or met any of them. It was harder than it looked to actually lower the defensive walls you build around yourself to let new people in. She wants to try though. If she wants to get and feel better, she'll have to put forth the effort.

With a sigh of the mouth, Erin pushes down upon her seat and sits up straight, "The guy who hurt me was really trying to hurt my dad."

"Your dad?" The response comes from Joe; he's a two year survivor.

"Hank Voight…he's a sergeant."

Ronald's brows crease as he retorts, "Your family is all in the law enforcement field."

"It just makes me a bigger target you can say." Erin speaks in nonchalance; she acts indifferent. If it were one of them, the idea of being a bigger target would scare the crap out of them. For Erin, she's been used to it her whole life. No one her dad has arrested actually had the balls to go through with hurting her or her mother, but threats were still given to her dad warning him against investigating and arresting them.

Jen speaks up, "This isn't your fault."

"What makes you think I blame myself?"

"…because we've been where you are." Jen answers; the heel of her foot is tapping nervously, rhythmically and regularly against the tiled floor, "It may have been months and years since ours, but we've all been there." She's a five month survivor, and before Erin signed up and joined, she was the new girl.

Ronald chimes in, "And we're all here, you know, in case you need us."

"You don't have to hold back," Joe reminded. Some of the people he first met at the support group were no longer in attendance during regular sessions, but that's what they told him. It helped hi, and he wanted to do the same for her.

Susan added, "You can be honest with us about anything."

"Can we not focus on me right now?" Erin hated to request it, but she had enough of being the center of attention. She needed a break. She needed to hear from someone else.

"Of course…like we've said, we've all been where you are." Susan rises from her seat, "You just met us. We don't know each other that well. You need time to warm up to us. It's normal…even for people not in support groups. No one feels comfortable telling strangers all of their personal thoughts and emotions. We understand Erin." Susan walks over to the podium to prepare for the next segment of their session, "Now, I know we don't usually do guest speakers, but this woman was the first person I myself personally helped. She's an eight year survivor, and she hasn't been back to a meeting in years. We've kept in touch and recently she shared something with me that I thought would be good for you all to hear," Susan holds her pointer finger up to the members, "Let me see if she's here. She didn't want to come in until the personal session was over."

Susan briefly disappeared, leaving a quiet Erin rocking back and forth slowly. She felt Tanya's comforting hand rest upon her knee and she couldn't help but think of her own mother. She wouldn't know what to do if someone victimized her mother like they did Tanya. Tanya was someone's mother like Erin was someone's daughter, and Erin couldn't fathom the thought of someone hurting Camille; she'd honestly see red and there would be no stopping her. Erin's hand finds comfort atop of Tanya's resting hand; she places her own palm above Tanya's, and she gives the older woman a kind smile, "Thank you."

"I have a daughter a little older than you," Tanya whispers; her eyes fall upon their joined hands, "We're estranged. We haven't spoken to each other since my attack."

Erin turns to face her; she didn't understand. Why would her own daughter completely shut herself out of her mother's life, especially after what happened? Erin squeezes her hand, "Why?"

"She blamed herself," Tanya's eyes glaze over; she's thinking about the last time she saw her, "She held herself responsible. Every time she saw me, she thought about it…and I assume she figured getting out of my life would help her heal."

"…but what about you?"

"To be honest," Tanya cleared her throat, "I blamed her in the beginning too, but Susan helped me. All of these beautiful men and women helped me…and they're going to help you too. I'm going to help you Erin."

Before Erin could express her appreciation, Susan reentered the room. She heard the heels on Susan's feet click against the tiled floor. Her eyes are focused straight as she stares at the podium, and soon enough Susan walks up behind it, "Everyone this is Sylvie; she's a paramedic for the Chicago Fire Department."

"Hi Sylvie," the greeting is spoken in unison once more. Erin is the only one who stays silent.

Sylvie waves at the small group of men and women, "Hi everyone," Her hands approach the edge of the podium and she grips onto it tightly, "Um, I'm not really good at public speaking and I haven't been back to one of these meetings in years, so, here it goes," Her eyes are focused downward; she's trying to look at anything, but the crowd, "I'll start off by saying what Susan said to me the first time we met," Sylvie raises her eyes and the second she does, they meet with Erin's; without a second to spare, Erin excuses herself to go to the restroom, Sylvie's words fading out in her ears, "she uh…sorry, she told me that hope for a better future begins by making peace with your past.

Erin walks out of the room; she's in desperate need of some fresh air. She finds the exit and she pushes through it. This isn't an anonymous meeting, but it was supposed to have some anonymity. Last names, addresses, etc.…aren't required to attend a meeting. She wasn't supposed to know anyone. It's the evening, and the cold brisk air sweeps through her opened jacket. Her head is tilted up –eyes shut tight- she inhales a long intake of breath. Erin hates surprises; she hates being caught off guard, and she definitely hates it when she thinks she knows someone, but then finds out she doesn't know them at all. Sylvie had visited her in the hospital and said nothing. She needed someone to talk to all this time and Sylvie said nothing. Meetings didn't usually go over an hour, and Erin knew the hour was approaching its end. With a deep breath, a clear of the throat, and a fake plastered smile, Erin simply turned on her heel and headed back into the building. As she made her way closer and closer to the main room, she could hear Sylvie. Her speech was over and she heard her call on someone; it was Tanya.

"You mentioned that you wanted to start coming back to meetings, and Susan mentioned that you stopped. What changed your mind?"

She remained standing in the hallway; her ears listening in, "A close friend of mine was recently sexually assaulted. It brought back some not so pleasant memories. It's one thing when you put it behind you, but then when it happens to someone close to you, it can bring it all back." Soon enough, echoes of clapping vibrated through the halls; Sylvie must have been done.

With her head held high, she powerwalked back into the main room, grabbed her purse, and had every intention of waving goodbye at each person before leaving. Her husband dropped her off and she was supposed to text him a few minutes in advance for him to know when to come and pick her up. She reaches into her purse for her cell phone, and the second she pulls it out, Sylvie taps upon her shoulder, "Hi Erin."

"What do you want?" She's closed off; she's speaking at the paramedic as if she's a stranger.

"The meeting is over, and I didn't get here early enough to get a snack. I was going to head out for some food and I thought you could join me."

"Why?" Her phone is clenched in her hand, "Why do you want to talk to me now? I don't know where you've been for the last two and a half weeks."

"I needed time."

Sylvie's stomach growls and Erin clearly hears it, "Alright…we can get food _next door_ and then I'm leaving. I have to text my husband to pick me up in an hour from the restaurant next door." As she informs Sylvie, she sends Jay a quick text.

Sylvie and Erin toss out goodbyes and see you next week to every person in the room. They both have every intention of returning; Sylvie knows it's helpful and Erin has heard from everyone in the room how beneficial these meetings will eventually be. They'll pay off in the end. As the two women walk outdoors and venture to the restaurant a few feet away; they're quiet. Sylvie is sweet and kind, and Erin is the same, but she has a tough and angry side that can scare anyone. Sylvie doesn't know what to say. She wants to break the silence, but she doesn't know how.

"That day," Erin decides to speak up as they walk into the restaurant, "…the day you visited me at the hospital. You barely said anything." Hardly anyone is here and the two women seat themselves. They're given menus and brought water, before their waiter –Harris- disappears.

"…it's because I understood that it's nothing I could have said to make you feel better," Sylvie is honest with her; that day in the hospital, she let Gaby and Stella do the talking because she's been in Erin's shoes and she knew that Erin was most likely not even listening to what they had to say. Sylvie places a straw in her water, "I didn't talk because…you've heard everything Erin. You didn't need to hear it again." And that was the truth; Erin hated when she received visitors because they all said the same exact thing. Their faces may have changed, but their words were all the same. It was a repeated cycle. It was never-ending. Sylvie silently sips her water, "And we all know that it's easy to give advice to others, but when it comes time for us to take our own advice, that's a hard pill to swallow. I didn't want to offer advice because I would be a hypocrite. Half of the advice I would tell you, I didn't even follow myself."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to take the focus off of you," Sylvie informs; her eyes skimming the contents on the menu, "The people who needed to know, knew. I didn't want you looking at me for answers. We all react to trauma differently and neither reaction is wrong, so I didn't want you looking at me for confirmation that you're reacting properly."

Harris returns –takes their orders- and then leaves once more. He wasn't happy to be at work, but he didn't let it impact his ability to do his job. He was quick, and he constantly checked on them to make sure they had everything they could possibly need.

"When I was sad," Erin stares down at the empty placemat –it's patiently waiting for the hot plate of her ordered meal- she's hungry, "when I was upset, you said you guys should leave; you offered to leave."

"…because I know sometimes you just need to be alone."

Her bottom lip trembles, "Thank you."

She couldn't stay mad at her –she desperately wanted to- but she couldn't. Sylvie didn't deserve it. Erin probably would have done the exact same thing if the roles were reversed.

"You honestly do not need to thank me." Sylvie gives her a kind smile, "We have to stick together…I realize that now. If no one else is going to watch our back, we have to watch each other's. Us, women, we have to be strong and stick together."

"Sometimes I am just too tired to be strong anymore and I need to be strong for me for once." She stops talking momentarily when Harris brings out their food. Even though she didn't know him, she didn't want him overhearing their personal conversation. The second he walked away, she continued, "How can I be strong for others when I have to be strong for myself? I don't think I have enough strength in me to be strong for everyone else."

Sylvie nods, "You do…you just don't realize it yet. We're strong Erin."

"I'm terrified," Erin admits; she's allowing her food to cool off.

"…that doesn't mean you're weak."

"I just wish people got the reasons for my fear because then they'll be able to understand my pain." The two young women begin to eat their meal in between the pauses in their conversation.

"So what if they don't understand?" Sylvie swallows a bite of her burger, "So what if they don't get it? Not everyone will…" She grabs her napkin and dabs the corner of her mouth, "You know, someone once asked me how I am able to hold my head up so high after what I've been through and it's because, no matter what, I'm a survivor…not a victim. You can only be a victim if you allow yourself to be. You're not a victim Erin. I won't let you be."

"I feel like a victim…" Erin's appetite is lost. The moment she sees Harris, she waves him over and requests for a box for her food. She'll give it to Jay; he'll definitely enjoy it.

"We all do at some point, but it doesn't mean we have to remain victims."

A silence falls over the two-person table after Erin nods. She quietly watches Sylvie eat –it doesn't bother either of them- Erin isn't focused and Sylvie is too distracted by her meal.

"I thought I was pregnant." She admits without a second to think about what she's saying.

Sylvie drops her French fry, "…by your husband?"

"...no."

Her meal completely forgotten the moment it registered for Sylvie who exactly she was referring to, "Oh, Erin…"

"I'm not." She informs –she was relieved the second she found out- her doctor called her over the phone the second her test results came back. Erin couldn't wait until her next appointment to find out. She's grateful he told her as soon as he did. She was going to drive herself crazy if she had to wait any longer, "Fortunately the test the doctor ran came back negative. I am not pregnant, but…when I thought I could be-"

"I understand." Sylvie says the second she realized it was hard for Erin to finish her sentence. She didn't know how she was going to finish it, and Sylvie stepped in with her own personal tale, "I was in college when I was attacked." Erin didn't know the details; and to be honest, she wasn't going to ask about it. From her own personal experience, she hated being asked about her attack, and she assumed the same of Sylvie and every other person in the support group. Sylvie grabbed another fry –eating was her coping mechanism- and with the fry in her mouth, she continued, "It was by my ex-boyfriend." Her eyes stare over Erin's shoulder; she doesn't want to go into details, and after swallowing her fry, she closed her tale, "Most sexual assaults happen by people you know."

Erin shakes her head, "…not mine; I've never heard his voice before."

"You didn't know him, but maybe he knew you."

"How did you move on? How were you able to?" Erin grabs her glass of water and takes a sip, "What did you do?"

"…forgive."

"How can I possibly do that? Why would I do that?"

"It's not for them Erin, it's for you." Sylvie explains, "They don't deserve it, but you do." She grabs her napkin to wipe her hands, "Make peace with your past Erin. Life is too short and precious to hold grudges against people who no longer exist in your present."

It was easier said than done. Sylvie's attack happened years ago; Erin's was only weeks ago. It was still the same month and the same year of her attack, but Sylvie's was far in the past. Sylvie had time to grow and transform herself from victim to survivor. Erin needed that same time.

"Jay just text me," Erin holds up her cell phone, "He's outside. How much do I-"

"It's on me," Sylvie waves her away.

"You don't have to-"

"It's on me Erin," Sylvie repeats.

Erin rose to her feet and smiled, "Thank you."

"I'll see you next week," Sylvie resumed eating her meal.

"Thanks for the pep talk."

"Anytime…anywhere, we have to look out for each other."

It was true. That's what friends are for. Erin sends Sylvie another wave before walking away; however a nagging question pops into her head forcing her to abruptly stop. She doesn't go back over to the table, but she does turn to face her friend, "Sylvie."

"Yes," the blonde turns her head to look at Erin.

"Why did you stop going to meetings?"

"…because I got my life back."

"Now you're going back to meetings, what does that mean?"

"I want to help others get theirs back too." She waves for Harris to come over; she was ready for the check, "Meetings never hurt. I can have my life and attend meetings too. It's not a one or the other situation. I always assumed being in meetings meant I wasn't okay. I am okay…and you'll be okay too."

If Erin were to be honest with herself, she was happy to be leaving and seeing her husband. She missed seeing a familiar face after being surrounded by strangers for an hour. She saw his car parked, and he was waving for her to pick up her pace. He was in a hurry.

"Hey babe," he greets the second she opens the passenger seat door.

She smiles as she slides into the car, "I absolutely love it when you call me babe."

"Buckle up. We have to go." He's serious; he doesn't have time to flirt back.

"Why?" She does as instructed. When he was waving at her, he was trying to hurry her along. With the seat belt locked and tightened, she turned in her seat to face him, "What happened?" Her face is stoic; she's imagining the worse, "Why is your face looking like that?"

"Antonio called Voight."

"…is everything okay?"

"I don't know how they know, but we're supposed to go find out."

"Know what?" Erin is staring at her husband; she's scared, "Jay, talk to me!" She feels forced to shout; she's absolutely freaking out, "Why did Antonio call my dad?"

"…because he found out who attacked you." How did Antonio of all people find out when he wasn't even investigating her case?

Erin gulps; this was the moment she has been waiting for. She had hoped for this moment; sometimes prayed for it, and now that it's here, she's nervous; she's hesitant. What was she thinking? The sirens of her husband's car were on blaring through the city. It was now or never. Erin extends her hand and sets it atop of his, "Who was it? Who hurt me?"

"Ben; Ally's boyfriend."


	12. Death Wish

Erin's body and mind is temporarily paralyzed; she's unable to move a muscle as she stares forward –eyes unblinking- she's completely zoned out of the present. They've been parked outside of the precinct for the last fifteen minutes. Erin doesn't want to get out of the car, and Jay refuses to leave her side. He's antsy to get information, but not at the expense of leaving her. Her fingers are tapping methodically against her lap, and Jay's hand outstretches to cover hers. The comfort of his hand makes them stop. She's terrified. This whole time she had thought she was mentally prepared to know who hurt her and why; she wanted the truth, but now that the truth was literally moments away, she was distressed. She had always assumed that she would get closure the moment she found out who did it. Now, she's absolutely horrified to find out why he did it. If she doesn't like the answer, she's afraid she'll blame her dad or her husband. She's afraid she'll blame someone and become estranged with them like Tanya is with her daughter.

"Can you promise me something?" Erin unstraps her seatbelt and shifts to face her husband.

"…Anything."

"Don't say that. Listen to what I want you to promise before you agree."

Jay lifts her hand, "Okay."

She couldn't spend her life in denial. The time was going to come for her to eventually get out of the car, and that time was approaching soon. It had reached the twenty minute mark, and she along with her husband was growing restless. Why couldn't she force herself out of the car? She didn't know the one singlehanded answer, but there seemed to be multiple variables that could possibly be the reason for her paralyzed position. Erin's staring at her husband; her hand is resting in his. Her free hand is used to wipe at her misty eyes, before it's used to clench around his. His one hand lies between Erin's two. She's holding on for dear life; she's grasping his hand as if at any moment he'll be snatched away from her.

"When I find out why, I don't think I'll be able to control my emotions." Jay moves his free hand to rest against the side of her face causing her to sigh into his warm touch, "I don't know what I'll say or what I'll do, but I want you to promise me that you won't let it get to you. Promise me that you won't leave my side." Her earlier attempt at wiping her misty eyes proved to be a fruitless effort due to the now forming tears currently swelled with them, "Promise me Jay that you won't leave me; you won't leave this marriage. I need you." Her voice drastically cracks at her last admittance. It was the truth. Regardless of what she thought, she did need him.

"Hey," he cups her face with his hands, "hey, I got you. I promise you. You have my word."

She's looking into his eyes, "You're not going to leave me?"

"I'm not going to leave you."

"Okay…" two tears slowly fall from her eyes as she nods, "then let's go in."

His word was worth millions to her. She never had a reason to doubt him. Tanya's daughter left her in her greatest time of need. Jay wouldn't do that to her. However, Tanya never assumed her daughter would either. You never know who is really there for you until you're at your worst. Jay was here for her. He refused to give up on her after the attack, after the pregnancy scare, and he's here for her now. They didn't know why she was targeted and attacked, but they would eventually find out; and if it was due to a grudge or vengeance against her dad like they all assumed, she would need her husband more than ever.

Erin's body is able to move. Her movements are rushed and panicked, but she's moving. She slams the car door and she's marching up the front outside steps. One destination is set in mind; the Intelligence Unit bullpen. However before she is able to swing open the outside door to the precinct, Jay pushes it closed. He's millimeters behind her; his body is practically pressed against her backside. His mouth beside her ear as he holds the door closed, "Erin, I need you to promise me something." His whispered voice sends vibrations through her ear at his close proximity.

She turns around; her arms crossed above her chest, "Okay, I'm listening…"

"Promise me that you won't get in the way."

"Huh?" Her arms uncross and drop down to her side.

"Your dad and I will take care of everything." Jay once again cups her face; it's one of the only things that can really comfort her, "Promise me that you won't try to interfere." Their faces are inches apart, "Promise me that you'll steer clear of him when we bring him in."

Her hand covers his hand, "I can't promise you that." She slowly slides his hand off her face.

"Why not?"

"…because he hurt me, not you. I have every right to get involved."

"I don't want you getting hurt Erin." He honestly admits. He knows his wife; he knows she's strong, firm in her ways and independent. She's not the type to beg for attention, accept being coddled and ask for help. Erin doesn't need protecting by him, her parents, or anyone. However just because she felt she didn't need it, didn't mean they wouldn't provide it. Jay couldn't protect her the first time, but from here on out, he planned to protect her until his dying breath.

She sets her hand upon his shoulder, "And I won't because you and my dad will be there watching my back." She looks into his eyes, "You'll have my back, right?"

"Of course," Jay's eyes remain focused on hers; he's serious and firm, "You know I will."

And she does. Erin knows he will; he always has her back, even when she pushes him away. They're inches apart, and Erin closes the distance by pressing her lips against his cheek. It's soft. It's comforting. It's definitely reassuring. It's a simple gesture to many, but for her, it's everything. It's a risk. It's a chance she's taking. She's putting herself out there –her emotions and vulnerabilities all exposed- simply by kissing his cheek. Jay accepts it. He may have wanted –yearned- for more, but he makes no mention or sign of it. She's healing; she's taking one step at a time, and he'll take what she offers.

"Thank you," Erin pulls away and smiles. All contact was lost and he sighs –both happily, contentedly and disappointedly- he missed his wife. He missed everything about her, but he was grateful for the moments she did offer.

Jay reopens the entrance door, and holds it wide open for her to enter. She's in less of a rush; she's taking her time and making sure Jay isn't too far behind. He opens the second door for her, and the two enter into the lobby of the precinct. It's busy as usual. Sergeant Platt is behind the main desk –on what seems to be a boring phone call- her eyes are unfocused and she's doodling on an blank sheet of paper. At the sight of Erin she perks up, Platt makes up some excuse and hangs up the phone. She waves the younger woman over, and leans forward against the desk.

"I heard," her voice is low –she's whispering loud enough for only Erin and Jay to hear- she's not supposed to know that the Intelligence Unit –more specifically Hank and Jay- remained investigating Erin's case. However most officers, detectives and sergeants knew; they just didn't say anything. It was an unspoken understanding. If it was any of their daughters or wives, they would be doing the same thing Voight and Halstead is doing.

Erin responds; her voice just as low, "We just know who, we don't know why."

"Yet," Jay adds; they didn't know why yet. He had every intention of finding out. He wanted to know who, why, and everything else involving her case. Halstead had a special interest in also knowing whether Ally was involved; if so, he needed to know the extent of her involvement. Was she the one who picked Ben up after the attack? Was it planned? Was it just an unfortunate coincidence? Was Erin specifically targeted? Did Ben already start the attack, and when he realized she was Voight's daughter, decide to advance it? So many questions needed to be answered, and Halstead was done waiting. He took a hold of Erin's hand, "Ready?" She nods.

"I'll buzz you guys up." Platt calls out; Halstead is able to, but it'll save them some time.

It seemed like for every one step they took upstairs, two more appeared. They couldn't get to the bullpen fast enough. And the second they did arrive, Erin took in everyone present –Dawson, Mouse, and Burgess- her father, Olinsky, Roman, Ruzek and Atwater nowhere in sight. She walks to the center of the bullpen and looks around. Erin's eyes fall onto the whiteboard –evidence linking Ben to her crime and the underground fight club written out- she reads it.

"You got a warrant to tap his phone?" She turns around to face Antonio as he nods.

"We didn't know listening in on his phone conversation would reveal what else he did," Antonio begins to explain; most of the biggest criminals are brought down by dumb mistakes, "We listened in to hear where the fights take place and how he recruits. We overheard him."

Everyone present is watching her; no one knowing what to say. There is nothing to say. Erin desperately needed another therapy appointment or support group meeting. She needed something. They each watch –waiting for a reaction- she doesn't give them one. Burgess uses the silent opportunity to reach behind Adam's desk.

"Erin," She calls out, lifting up a bottle, "I brought wine! I figured we would need a drink."

Her raspy voice whispers, "You're not allowed to drink on the job." Erin's eyes aren't focused on Burgess or anyone else in the room; they're staring at her dad's closed office door.

Kim shrugs and sets the bottle down, "I'm pretty sure the sergeant wouldn't hold it against me."

"Speaking of the sergeant," Erin approaches his door. She twists the knob and finds it locked. The lights are off inside his office and the blinds are closed, "where is he?"

Antonio speaks up, "He stepped out."

"Where did he go?" She turns around to face Dawson, "There's no way he wouldn't be here after finding out you found the guy who hurt me." Erin is approaching the detective. He's standing shoulder to shoulder with Mouse. She stops inches in front of him, "Where did my dad go?"

Mouse attempts to explain, "Erin-"

"Man, you heard her!" Halstead approaches his wife's side. He's not in the mood for beating around the bush. He's not in the mood to hear his fellow teammates patronize his wife; they're walking on pins and needles around her, they're trying to avoid replying to her question and he's not going to allow it, "Answer the question Mouse! Where's Voight?"

"He and Olinsky went to go get him."

"Get him?" Erin chimes back into the conversation, "Get whoever this Ben guy is?"

"Yes. We tracked his phone and found a location." Mouse makes his way back to his desk. He takes a seat and taps upon the keyboard to bring life to his computer, "Just in case he tossed his phone, Voight sent Atwater and Ruzek to Ben's house."

Halstead's arms overlap –his hands cup his elbows- his muscular arms are crossed and resting on top of his chest. He takes a seat at the edge of Mouse's desk, and peers onto his computer screen. Mouse isn't looking at anything in particular –his computer screen blank- he's staring at it trying to avoid the watchful eyes of Erin and Jay. His closest friend clears his throat, forcing Mouse to look up and acknowledge him.

"What about Ally?" Jay questions; no one else thought to bring her up, but he did. She was an old friend who is now a criminal. She was a woman that Jay used to know well, and now he needed to know if she was involved. How could a woman he basically grew up with turn into this crazed and controlling criminal? She was loved by both her parents. She had a great life. How does someone like that start committing crimes? She couldn't have had anything to do with it. It wasn't like her. From his undercover work, he noticed that Ally's role was to do as she was told. She wasn't a mastermind. She was simply a girlfriend following her boyfriend's orders. Jay was already in disbelief that someone like Ally could possibly date someone like Ben, but to knowingly be involved in Erin's attack, that's another story, that's another feeling; she couldn't have known. She couldn't have been a part of it.

Dawson responds, "We have no reason to believe she's involved."

He unknowingly finds himself sighing; it's a reflex. A part of Ally that he'd known years ago had to still be there. She couldn't have possibly known what Ben was going to do to his wife. If she did know, she wouldn't just allow it to happen? If she did, he didn't know her as well as he thought. Jay leans forward, "What about her place? He could run there."

Even though Halstead wanted to give Ally a partial benefit of the doubt, his wife was still the victim. Erin was still the one that was hurt. She was the one he loves. And she's the one who has his loyalty. Mouse leans back in his swivel chair, "Voight sent Roman and another squad officer to stop by her residence." He responds to his friend's concern; Voight had everything planned out.

"Where did my dad go?" Erin's question isn't directed towards one person; she looks around, waiting for anyone to answer, "What's the address?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you."

"Antonio!"

Dawson's arms rise into the air, "I'm sorry Erin! You're not an officer!"

"…then tell me!" Halstead inserts himself into Antonio and Erin's pending argument.

"You'll just tell her. We were given strict orders to keep her out of this."

Jay understood that they were given orders, and normally he would respect those orders, but this wasn't some simple case. This case involved the boss's daughter.

"Are you serious?" Erin stormed towards the detective, before feeling Jay's arm pull her back, "Antonio, my dad is going to kill him!"

Dawson shakes his head, "No he won't. He'll arrest Ben."

"What are the orders after that?" Erin pulls her arm free from Jay's hold; she isn't some stranger off the street, she knows her dad and she knows what he's capable of. She just needed for Antonio to realize that too, Erin crosses her arms, "What's going to happen when they get him?"

"I told Voight to bring him in."

"My dad doesn't take orders from you though…" Erin smirked; she chuckles dryly, "My dad's the one in charge. He's the one who gives out the orders."

"I told Voight that I would go above his head if Ben isn't in the cage after they catch him."

Halstead rolls his eyes, "I bet he didn't take that well."

"He benched me. That's why I'm here and not out there." Dawson grips onto the straps of his suspenders; he storms over to his desk and flops down into his seat.

Erin follows him to his desk, "He's going to kill him," her voice pleads with him to believe her.

"No he's not. Voight could lose his job. He could lose his freedom."

"Do you honestly think he cares about that right now?!" Erin's voice is louder than anyone expected. He isn't listening to her. He's undermining everything she has to say. It seems to be the recurring theme for her. No one listens! No one takes in what she has to say. Erin grips the arm of Dawson's chair and pulls it close, "Ben has a death wish and my dad will fulfill it!"

Antonio rises from his seat, kicks the chair back towards his desk and approaches the whiteboard. Ben and Ally's photos were pinned up. He stared into Ben's dark and manipulative eyes as he silently thought to himself. He was wasting precious time. Erin knows her dad better than anyone. She knows what he's capable of. Antonio only hoped that Voight listened to him and his threat to go above his head; however, realistically speaking, Voight hated taking orders, especially from his own team. Voight didn't need the benefit of the doubt; it was too much of a risk. He was going to do exactly what no one wanted him to do. That was who Voight was, and he definitely wasn't going to change just because one of his detectives threatened to snitch.

"We don't have a motive yet." Mouse chimes in; he's supporting Antonio's stance, "Voight won't do anything until he has all the answers. He's going to want to know why Ben targeted you." He didn't know Voight as well as them, but he had faith in his sergeant.

Erin covers her face and dramatically sighs, "Do you really think it'll be hard for him to get answers?" She pinches the bridge of her nose in annoyance, "My dad will beat it out of him!"

"Olinsky's there," Antonio adds.

"Olinsky will help!" Erin screams almost as loud as the last time she raised her voice, "Come on Antonio! Think for a second! You know my dad better than that. You know he's not above killing someone. Now what was the damn location?"

"Here," Mouse rose from his seat and extended a sticky note to her.

She looks down at the bright yellow note, "That's where my dad is?"

"Yeah, it's a warehouse."

She snatches the note, "Thank you!" And within seconds she's off.

"I'm coming with you!" Halstead shouts, trailing closely behind his wife.

Burgess sets the wine bottle behind Adam's desk, "Wait for me…I'm coming too! We can take my car and put on the sirens!"

Antonio and Mouse watch their three friends disappear down the stairs. Each one of them on their own personal mission to either get answers, make sure Voight doesn't kill Ben, or watch Erin's back. The two remaining men turn to face each other; Antonio with a nervous look on his face and Mouse with a worried one.

Dawson presses his hand against his forehead, "You shouldn't have given her the address."

"She's right, and you know it." Mouse walks back to his desk.

"I hope you know what you're doing."

Mouse sits down, "I hope so too."

Things changed. Plans change all the time. Operations go unfinished. Crimes are sometimes left unsolved. The undercover operation that they've been working on for months was out of the window. It was unfortunately forgotten. Voight didn't care about it. When he stormed into the warehouse –guns drawn- he didn't care about the group of criminals participating in an illegal fight club. He didn't care about their prior criminal record; their current and future crimes were an afterthought. Voight had one person in mind that he made his mission to find.

No one seemed to notice. Voight and Olinsky casually walking in holding weapons weren't odd. It was a room full of criminals seeking thrill in an underground illegal fight club. Most of them had holstered weapons. Some of them sought out trouble through betting in the fight club and others came for the excitement in watching two unwilling participants fight it out. It was fun for them, and eventually they'll be brought down. One day, all of them will find themselves in a court room in front of a jury determining their fate; however, today wasn't the day. Today was the day for justice to be served for his daughter. She came before all of them.

Loud music is blasting through the speakers as animalistic men cheer on two scrawny men fighting in the middle of an unofficial ring. Their faces covered in blood and sweat, and the detectives still remained unfocused on them. He walked over to the speakers and ripped the cords from the wall. A deafening silence falls over the crowd; their shouts and cheers silenced due to the interruption of the cops. They're unaware of Voight's power, but just by his command of authority, they knew he wasn't one to be crossed.

"If no one wants to get arrested," his raspy voice is loud and powerful, "you'll point me in the direction of Ben and then leave." No one budges. No one makes any movement. Silent voices and stoic faces watch him. He doesn't flash his badge or aim his weapon at anyone. He doesn't need to. Voight knows how to get answers without using the power of his authority. He walks further into the warehouse –Olinsky close behind- he opens up the cage door and allows the two fighters to leave, "I'm sure most of you have active warrants against you and right now I don't care. I don't care about any of you. The only person I want is Benjamin Lee. Point me in his direction and I'll forget that I had to ask twice."

Following his last statement, one of the meek and scrawny men lifted his pointer finger in the direction of a hallway. He remains silent, but his eyes tell it all. Ben is down that hallway. Voight holsters his weapon and evilly smiles, "Today is you all's lucky day. It isn't the day that you'll be brought in. Now leave," moments after his order, it's chaotic. Men –both large and small- race out of the warehouse; their feet are shuffling against the cement floor as they scramble to freedom. They didn't know what Ben was involved in, but they wanted no part of it. They weren't willing to go down for him. It wasn't worth it, especially when they're dealing with a semi-crooked cop. Voight begins walking in the direction of the hallway, "Olinsky."

Al approaches his boss, "Yeah Voight?"

"Make sure they all leave the scene," As he walks through the crowd of running criminals, he needed to make sure none of them decided to help Ben out. He didn't deserve it.

"I would prefer to go in there with you," they approach the hallway, and straight ahead was one closed door with a guard standing in front of it. He's completely still. His job isn't to check out the chaotic scene of underground fighting, it's to watch Ben's back.

"I gave you an order." Hank continues to walk; the guard in front of the door unmoving and unbothered. He's waiting for Voight to approach him.

"Hank, I-"

"Follow orders Olinsky!" Voight's rage-filled eyes glare forward; now was not the time for disobedience. Al doesn't argue this time. He nods and does as his boss requested. When Voight was in this type of mood, Olinsky knew there was no reaching out to him. Hank had his mind set and there was no changing it.

Voight approaches the outside of Ben's office; his hand clenched around his gun. He's not in the mood for conversation; he's in the mood for answers and vengeance. The noise and loud voices soon die down; most of them were probably gone. He stood in a darkened hallway with the only two present being him and the guard.

"Let me in," Hank nods towards the closed door.

"I'm afraid I can't let you in without an appointment."

Within a second –more so less than a second- after the guard's words, Hank had enough. He withdrew his Taser, shocked the side of the guard until he painfully dropped to his knees and then pulled out his handcuffs. In one swift motion, Voight handcuffs the larger man to the handrail. He wasn't up for arguing, debating or communicating, especially with someone paid to protect the one person he's after. Hank relaxes his shoulders and walks further up to the door. His fist knocks against it unthreateningly; he wanted to keep Ben's guard lowered. And seconds following his fourth knock, the door is cracked open.

"Don't you hate it when you're having a nice day and then all it takes is that one person to screw everything up?" Voight shoves the entry further open; the wooden door pushes Ben back and off his feet. He's caught completely guard. A low scream from Ally erupts in the small office as she watches Voight pull her boyfriend to his feet, "Hello Ben, I believe we haven't officially met."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" His body is slammed against a chipped wall; he feels Voight's arm press against his throat to hold him in place, "You're messing with the wrong guy," he whispers; his voice unwavering and unafraid, "You'll regret this." He eyes the gun sitting on his desk; it's only a few feet away.

"Don't be stupid," Hank notices the weapon as well, "And don't be mad at me because you fucked up!" The pressure of Voight's arm strengthens as it holds Ben's body against the wall. The two men both perceive themselves as tough. One is the literal sense of the word, and the other, he's acting; it's all a charade so the sergeant couldn't break him. Hank releases his grip and smirks when Ben rubs his aching neck.

Nothing is over. A warning from Ben doesn't scare Voight. He received scarier threats than the minor one Ben attempted to dish out. Ben repositions his stance; his shoulders are stern and his head is held high. To anyone but Voight, he looks unbothered as if he has all of this under control. Voight smirks and immediately grips the side of Ben's head to press it down against Ben's junky desk. It's filled with papers and trash, but Voight doesn't care. He simply presses the criminal's face further into the garbage.

"Get back here," Hank growls after noticing in his peripheral Ally trying to leave, "I'm not done with him or you. I don't repeat myself so you better listen carefully; stay put." With his hand still holding Ben's head down, he watches Ally back up, "I have a loyal detective out there who will take any orders from me, including orders to shoot to kill. Do you understand me?" It's a clear threat; a warning that he will follow up on. He's not in his rational mind; his thoughts and reasoning are shaded in black. Ally backs up into the wall; she's terrified and she doesn't want to test him. Hank's nails dig deep into his grip on Ben's face, "Now, unfortunately for you, your little love story with Ally will be ending soon." Voight's lips twist as he sighs in mock sadness, "If you can't read between the lines, to put it simply, I'm going to kill you."

Ben scoffs, "Yeah right," With his face pressed against his desk, he still finds the time to mock the angered man; he's not afraid, at least that's what he keeps telling himself. If anything, he's only uncomfortable. Other than that, he's doing fine. In his peripheral, Ben sees Voight take his weapon out of its holster and press the mouth of the gun against the side of his face, "You're a cop!" Ben finds himself reminding the raging man, "You swore to uphold the law. You're supposed to protect and serve!" His mock confidence and bravery is slowly slipping through the cracks. He's trying to remain fearless, but he's not dealing with an average cop; he's dealing with Hank Voight and it's almost entirely impossible to remain fearless in his presence.

A toothy grin stretches across Voight's face. He couldn't help but find himself chuckling. It's a dark chuckle, "You don't know me at all." He raises the weapon and interrupts his own words when he knocks the butt of his gun against the side of Ben's face.

"You can't do this!" Ben argues, struggling to break from Voight's hold.

"Why?" Voight quips, tightening his grasp, "because I'm a cop?" Hank hears Ally's panicked and labored breaths from over in the corner; she's trying to stay out of it. She doesn't want his attention on her. He turns back to the man currently at his disposal, and with a long sigh, he speaks calmly as if this wasn't a tense situation, "I hate repeating myself Benjamin so listen carefully. I want to know why you went after my daughter." Finally the reason for his unannounced visit was known, however no matter how scared Ben was he wasn't going to give in so easily; he's a criminal; he has no plans to admit to anything. Voight removes the gun from the side of Ben's head and holsters it once again.

"I…I don't know what-"

Without giving Ben a chance to finish his lie, Voight reaches for Ben's gun on the corner of his desk. Within seconds, he shoots the ceiling and presses the burning mouth of the gun against the side of Ben's face. His screams echo through the entire warehouse. Ally flinches as she watches. Voight doesn't. He really tried it; he tried to lie and deny every part of what happened. The anger bubbling within him strengthens the force of the pressure he's applying from the gun to his face.

"Please!" Ally screams; she can hardly stand to watch, "Please stop! Stop!"

"My daughter begged him to stop and he didn't listen so why should I?!"

Voight shoots the ceiling once again –small crumbles of it falling around them- he ignores the powdery dust as he reapplies the weapon to another area on Ben's face. Ben screams again. His face sounds like it is cooking; a smell of burning flesh surrounds the room.

"Please, stop," Ben feels forced to give in and plea with the older man.

"I can wait," Voight pulls the gun away, "I have nothing better to do. Your weapon has a nice amount of bullets in it and I'm pretty sure you have spare clips in here somewhere."

"I'm innocent," Ben begs; he's never had to beg in his life, but if it meant freedom and mercy, he wasn't against it. His burning flesh still ached even though the gun wasn't on him. He's in pain, "I don't know anything. I didn't do anything!"

"I know you raped my daughter," Voight clenches Ben's hair and pulls his head back. He mutters it into his ear, but it's loud enough for Ally to hear.

"No he didn't!" Ally chimes in; she swallows her fear and steps towards the detective currently threatening her boyfriend, "He wouldn't do that. Ben is a lot of things, but he isn't a rapist," Ally's eyes water as she watches her boyfriend squirm within Voight's hold, "You have to believe me. Ben wouldn't hurt your daughter in that way. He wouldn't rape anyone."

"He sent my daughter to the hospital," Hank growls to the younger woman; her words went through one of his ears and out of the other. He turns his focus back on Ben, "and I want to know why? I want to know why being my daughter made her a target?"

"I'm not saying anything until my lawyer is present," Ben grunts; he's sweating in nervousness, his skin is burning and his face is as red as a tomato. He tries to remain strong in front of Ally. He doesn't want her worrying about anything. However, the second he feels the barrel of a gun press against his face, he gulps in fear and his eyes close. He couldn't watch his own execution.

"I gave you a chance," Voight pulls back the trigger, "and you blew it."

Erin runs into the room at the perfect moment, "Dad, stop!" Halstead and Burgess are both following along behind her; they enter his office seconds after a gunshot rings out.


	13. No Regrets

A gun shot rang out, and then another; heating the mouth of the weapon to an extreme temperature. Smoke escaped through the hole of the front before Voight pressed it down upon Ben's eye. It's cooking; it's sizzling under the extreme heat. It's practically being melted shut. Erin's frozen –her mouth shut tight- the words she once spoke are forgotten and drowned out by Ben's high-pitched scream. She knew what her father was capable of, but to actually see it was a different story. She saw at least two –not including the currently burning eye- burn marks embedded deeply into his face. Voight pulls the gun away, and turns to face his daughter; a smile clearly tugging at the corner of his lips, "Is this the man that hurt you?" He's calm. If Ben and Ally didn't see it for themselves, they wouldn't have thought he was capable of being that calm and comforting towards anyone. Erin brought a side out of him that people rarely saw.

Erin looks at Ben –he's groaning in pain- she's staring at his face and it's barely recognizable. Her attacker had a mask on. Ben doesn't. She couldn't recognize his eyes, especially since one was basically melted shut and the other was wide open anxiously scanning the room as best as it could. It was filled with panic and pain; the night of her attack, the eyes were filled with lust and vengeance. It was impossible to compare Ben's current eyes to the ones she saw that night.

"I don't know." It breaks her heart to say it. She was honest though; she didn't know.

Ally is watching Erin; she watches her interactions with Voight. She's the daughter he was referring to; she's Voight's daughter and Halstead's wife. Ally was aware that he and Erin were married, but she had no idea that he was married to the daughter of his sergeant. Ally's hands cover her face and she flushes her back against the wall; she slides down and pulls her knees to her chest. Her face buried into her lap as she hears Ben's voice cry out, "See!" From the shock of Erin's confused state Voight releases the younger man. His daughter wasn't sure if he was coming after the right guy. Ben straightens up, "I told you I was innocent! I didn't hurt your daughter! I told you that you had the wrong guy and you'll regret this!" Ben points towards his burned and battered face, "I'll have your badge for this. You're going to prison!"

"No, no, no," Ally's hands grip her red hair; she's rocking back and forth crying. She isn't speaking to anyone in particular; she's muttering it to herself.

"Wait," Erin extends her hand towards her father; her eyes remain fixed on Ben, "it's him."

It was his voice; it was the one voice that she'll never forget. It was all her memories could remember specifically of her attacker. It was the one thing he couldn't change. It's all she had to go on. It was the only thing she could mentally use to link him to her attack. She vowed to never forget that voice until he was caught, and here he was, at the mercy of her father; he was at the mercy of all of them.

"Are you sure?" She feels Halstead's hand rest against her lower back as he approaches.

Her eyes remain glued on Ben, "Yes. I'm positive."

"I…I didn't know," Ally's cries pull in their attention; it's loud enough to overshadow any other voices; it's a screeching cry, "I didn't know you were married to his daughter," she's focusing on Halstead; he's the person she knew the longest, "If I had known-"

"What?" Jay cuts her off; there's a dark emotionless expression on his face, "you wouldn't have helped? You wouldn't have let Ben go through with it? What Ally? If you would have known, what would you have done differently?"

"I didn't know he was going to do that to her," Ally rises to her feet. She pleads with Jay to believe her. He has to; they're old friends, they've dated in the past and they've known each other longer than he has known anyone else in the room. She approaches Ben and shoves him, "You didn't say anything about raping her!" Her hand flies across his face.

Ben chuckles; he has literally been through worse than a slap. He can take whatever she dishes out. Ben pushes her away, "I told you I was going to kill two birds with one stone." It's a cocky grin; a smug smile. Ben thinks he's won. Erin already identified him. There's no other reason to lie anymore; she knows, and since she does, he found pleasure in poking fun at the sleeping bear that's currently resting within Voight.

"That wasn't a part of the plan!" Ally's wide eyes search the room to meet with someone who would believe her. She would never agree to something like that.

Jay nods disappointingly, "…so you were involved."

"You don't understand-"

"Explain it to me then Ally!" Halstead snaps; he steps in front of his wife as his eyes widen in anger. He's never in his life felt this angry before. He's never thought his body could get this upset. It was uncontrollable. There was nothing he could do to simmer the bubbling rage. He now understood Voight's quick temper; the overpowering instinct to just act without rationality; he felt that. He felt that if someone didn't hold him back, he could potentially hurt Ally.

Ally takes in the sight of him; she backs away in fear, she's never seen him so…so infuriated. His opened hands recoil at his sides; he's struggling to keep them unraveled. It's hard, and Ally sees that. They all do. Erin is behind him and she can even tell how much energy her husband is using in keeping his hands unclenched. She's standing behind him –her front pressed against his back- she slides both of her hands into his opened palms. It gives him another reason to close his hands; it holds hers. They're closed not to form a fist like they originally wanted to, but they're closed to surround her hands. It soothes the both of them.

"It was supposed to be a warning originally meant for you." Ally admits; her eyes are staring down at Jay's hands. She's unable to see Erin due to the woman standing directly behind her husband, but she's able to see their hands intertwined.

"What?" Halstead squeezes Erin's hands tighter; it's helping him suppress his anger, "I don't understand. What are you saying?"

Ally attempts to explain, "You lied to me this entire time. You were undercover and you pretended to be a crooked cop. You were my friend and you lied to me."

"It's not my fault you fell for it." He shrugs off her whining explanation. It's an excuse. She's seriously trying to explain her behavior; she's trying to justify what happened by somehow making it his fault.

"I trusted you!" Ally screams; she takes a large step forward and Erin instinctively pulls her husband back. Their hands untwine and now he's positioned behind Erin. Her hand presses against his chest in her attempt to keep him as far from Ally as possible, "I trusted you and you abused that trust! You betrayed me Jay. I got you in on the operation, and you lied to me this whole time. You looked me in the eye and lied straight to my face!" She shouts at Jay; her finger shoves forward in a wild and erratic act of expressing her wrath; she felt betrayed.

Erin swats the woman's hand away; she didn't appreciate an ignorant criminal shoving her finger in her husband's face. He was blameless. He did nothing wrong. Erin knew Jay would never intentionally hurt a woman –it wasn't in him- he could never put his hands on a female no matter what she did or plans to do. However, just because Jay felt that way didn't mean Erin did. She had no problem hitting a woman; and Halstead could see it in her eyes. She was a fuse that was about to blow. Erin wanted to step forward; how dare Ally try to point fingers at someone besides herself and Ben? It's their fault. No one else's, and no matter how she tried to explain it, it would always be their fault. She had an urge to step forward, to pounce forward, but Jay's hand pressed against her shoulder. He knew; he knew she was less than a second away from hitting her. Her body language and facial expressions were dead giveaways.

"You were conducting an illegal underground fight club and members of that club were murdered," Halstead began to explain calmly. He knew if he wanted Erin to try and be calm, he needed to be. He had to lead by example.

"I had nothing to do with that!"

Jay rests both of his hands against Erin's shoulders and he squeezes them gently. He finds himself –unknowingly and uncontrollably- pressing a light kiss against the back of her head. Her brunette hair brushes along the stubble against his chin; it's comforting. Erin's back is flushed against his and her shoulders relax. It surprises her just as much as it surprised him. Of all the places for her to actually relax, it's in the room her attacker and his accomplice are in. She leans her head back; it's now resting against his chest; it's keeping the two of them calm and collected.

"It's my job to investigate and find out the truth." His voice is light; it sounds patient and composed. It's the calmest sound the office has heard in the last few hours.

"Get back to the story." Voight found himself interjecting into the conversation. His hand remained gripped around Ben's arm; he doesn't want him getting any ideas about running or snatching one of their weapons to use against them. He has every intention of getting back to handling Ben, but he did want to know everything; if not for himself, then for Erin. She deserved the closure and knowing who, what, and why could possibly give it to her. Voight shoves Ben into a chair as he waits, "What about the warning? Finish telling us about that."

Ally's in tears; she's torn between emotions of guilt, betrayal, anger and fear, "I went to Jay's place to give a warning and maybe take out a little revenge," She's being honest with herself and them. Her sudden arrival wasn't just an order given to her by her boyfriend; it was one discussed and planned with him to show Jay that he lied to the wrong person. Ally's eyes fall towards Jay, "It was after I found out about the undercover operation. I read your text messages to someone named Olinsky. You were reporting back to him," they immediately avert to Ben, "I was supposed to come to your house pretending to be drunk. We didn't know if you were alone or not so I came over and once I made sure no one else was present, I was supposed to text Ben. He was parked outside. " She keeps her eyes focused on him. She was hurt. The two people she trusted the most had lied to her. Ally turned completely away from Jay and Erin; her body entirely facing Ben, "He was going to come in and rough you up a bit... just as a warning! I swear!" Ally's voice echoed on the bare and cracked walls, "Nothing life-threatening…he promised!"

Jay rolls his eyes, "Ally-"

"Let her finish!" Erin demands, pushing her husband away. She wanted to know. She needed to know it all. Everything happens for a reason and she was now getting her reason. The back of her wrist is used to wipe her tear-stained cheeks. They're drenched with fallen tears that seem to continuously pour out of her eyes no matter how hard she wiped. They came abruptly; one moment her eyes and cheeks were dry and the next, they were soaked with tears.

Her upper teeth find comfort in biting on her lower lip. She's biting hard –tearing the skin, drawing blood- it hurts but it doesn't hurt as much as hearing the truth. It doesn't hurt as much as hearing Ally try to point the blame at her husband and father. It doesn't scratch the surface in hurting more than seeing the smug and accomplished look on her attacker's face. If he could, she knew he would be patting himself on the back. There was no remorse in his eyes.

Ally's eyes focus on Jay as –demanded by Erin- she finished the story, "I had to distract you long enough and I knew you called me a cab so I got desperate and I just stripped down."

The story continues to be told –flashes of that night vividly playing through their minds- the holes of the story being filled in by Ally and occasionally Ben. He didn't mind. He remembered that night like it was yesterday and he had no intentions of forgetting. Ben focuses in on Ally's voice; as she tells the story the image of it plays through their heads. _Ben_ _'s sitting outside in his car, and he's watching the house. He's watching Erin go into the house knowing exactly what she may possibly walk in on. As Erin walks inside, she notices the taxi outside. It's parked right in front of their house. She pushes the door closed, "Hey babe, why is there a taxi parked outside?"_

 _The lights inside the house are dim; candles are lit and the aroma of dinner surrounds the inside of the house. A smile tugs upon Erin's lips. She's had a bad day at work and she knew if there was one person to make her day all better, it would be Jay. It's like he knew about her day. Of all the days to surprise her with a romantic night, it was the night she had the worst day possible at work. From the unfortunate events of the day, she thought it was only going to go worse, but Jay was a sweetheart. He had romanticized the entrance. Erin earned no response from her earlier question. She continued to walk down the hallway, "Babe, are you going some-" Her mouth goes dry. She temporarily forgets how to speak. All words are a foreign language to her as she watches her husband's ex-girlfriend wearing close to nothing with her lips pressed against Jay's mouth._

" _Are you serious right now?" The high-pitch in Erin's voice causes the two to jump apart. Jay's eyes are wide; he resembles the metaphorical deer being caught in headlights. Ally looks pleased; she finds amusement in her ex-boyfriend's wife catching the two of them together._

 _Jay pushes Ally out of his way, "Erin-"_

" _Ally though? Really Jay?" She interrupts his plea and steps back._

 _With each step he made towards her, she took another one back. Her hands are in the air and her eyes are glaring daggers into Jay's soul. It all resorts back to Murphy's Law. Her entire day was ripped into shreds. She had assumed all of this was for her; the candles, the low music, the dinner. She actually thought her bad day was going to end on a good note._

 _He reaches his hand out for her, "Let me-"_

" _You've never done anything like this for me! Ever!" She shouts interrupting him once again; she takes another step back. Her eyes look over Jay's shoulder and land upon Ally; she's still pleased, "Who would have thought that all it takes is for a desperate slut to throw herself at you to get you to actually do something sweet?" Erin's fighting the inevitable tears; she couldn't allow her tears to flow and have them thinking they broke her, "She's worth losing me for Jay?"_

 _His head is shaking, "No, it's-"_

" _And in our house?!" She interrupts; she won't let him speak. She can't let him speak out of fear of what he'll say. She refuses to be embarrassed in front of his mistress, "You couldn't have had the decency to rent a cheap two-star motel like other cheaters do? You decide to bring her here! My house! In MY living room!" Erin loses the battle in withholding her tears; it was an impossible fight to beat, but she tried her hardest. Her defenses go down as she watches Ally slowly dress herself, "Was she in my bed?" Her voice breaks, "You know what…" Erin sniffs to rid herself of her emotionally cracked voice, "I don't want to know. I don't want to hear it."_

" _Ally is-"_

" _I don't want to hear it!"_

" _Erin-"_

" _What part of I don't want to hear it don't you understand?! I'm not saying it again!" She makes herself loud and clear; Erin turns on her heels, holds her head high and shoulders straight, "I'm out of here! Have fun with that." She sends a glare in Ally's direction, "I need some air."_

 _Erin wanted to make a dignified exit. She didn't want to look heartbroken. She didn't want either of them to think they had truly broken every part of her; her heart, her soul, her body, everything felt like it was tearing to shreds and shattered into pieces and she couldn't have them know that. It was working. She was actually going to be able to leave without showing Jay and Ally a side of her that she hasn't seen since her first relationship ended with her boyfriend cheating. She was fine, she was going to be okay, that is until his hand wraps around her lower arm, "Just let-"_

" _Don't touch me!" She tears her arm from his grip, "Don't talk to me!" Erin screams; every ounce of composure is completely gone as she grabs the nearest thing –a picture frame- and with one toss, it shatters against the wall, "Don't look at me!" She grabs the next item –it's a small houseplant- and without thinking twice, she throws it against the wall next to Ally, "I hope you two are happy. You definitely deserve each other." Erin brushes her hands civilly against her lap; she's calm, it's scary, it's like throwing things released the pent up anger simmering within her chest. Her eyes flash from Ally and towards her husband, "Good luck turning a hoe into a housewife Jay," Her hands brush against one another before she holds them in the air signifying defeat, "I give up. I'm done." With her hand gripped tightly around her purse, she begins heading towards the door. She doesn't think twice about looking back; she's not fighting over a man who apparently doesn't want her, she's not that type of person; she never was and she never will be._

" _ERIN!"_

 _She hears Jay shout after her, causing her to respond, "I'm done!" Erin throws up a peace sign._

 _The second Erin departs from her house a part of her expected for the front door to reopen. She assumed Jay was going to come after her trying to explain himself. She thought he was going to come begging for her forgiveness or pleading with her that it meant nothing. However, nobody came. Erin stood on the porch –phone in hand- she dials Kim's number. They had an argument –a pretty bad one- but that shouldn't stop her from answering her phone. No matter how bad friends fight, they're supposed to be there for one another and right now, Kim was all she had. After the phone rings once, it's sent straight to voicemail. Apparently, the argument was worse than she thought considering Burgess sent her call to voicemail after the second ring._

 _Ben is sitting in his parked car; he's occasionally looking back and forth from the house to his cell phone, he's waiting for the text from Ally. He's ready to go in whenever, however, at the sight of Erin standing on the porch, crying while shoving her cell phone back into her purse, he had an idea. He watched her closely –very intently- she eyes her parked car, before she notices the taxi sitting in front of her house. The second Erin decides to take the taxi a Cheshire grin stretched across Ben's face. His idea was meant. Ben shot Ally a quick text, basically stating that he has another way to warn Halstead that doesn't involve hurting him directly and after the message sent, he started his car and followed after the taxi. He sat outside of the bar for hours waiting for her to leave. He was patient. He knew the longer she stayed in the bar, the more she was probably drinking, and the easier it'll definitely be to scare her a little. It was just supposed to be a physical assault –nothing sexual about it- that was until he read her maiden name listed on her driver's license. Opportunities kept presenting themselves. It was meant._

"I didn't know he raped you! I swear I didn't! I thought he was just going to spook you!" Ally is crying; she's talking to Erin directly now, everyone else in the room forgotten, "You weren't supposed to be raped!"

"Well, I was!" Erin snaps almost immediately finishing Ally's previous pleas. How could Ally possibly think that by telling her she wasn't supposed to be raped it would make her feel better? It didn't change anything.

Ally's head lowers, "I'm sorry."

"Your apology means nothing."

"He didn't tell me the plans changed!"

Ben chimes in; smiling triumphantly, "You had only need to know information."

"Why did you change the plan?" Voight grips the collar of Ben's shirt. After pulling him quickly to his feet, he musters up a mixture of his strength and the adrenaline pumping through his body to lift him up; his feet are inches above the ground, "Why did you escalate it?"

"When I saw her license, her maiden name is still on it. I saw Voight, and I asked her about her relation to you. Who would have thought that she was not only married to the man who infiltrated my fight club, but she was the daughter of the man who assigned it? I knew you were the man in charge of the unit investigating my club. I figured you would be a little preoccupied with investigating me when your daughter is hurt to such an extent." Ben answers the question with ease; he's watching Erin as he does. It's a sick pleasure of his. He likes the physical and emotional pain he causes; hence the underground fighting club. It's entertaining to him.

"Beating her up wasn't enough?"

Ben looks back at Voight to answer his question, "…no, not really." He shrugs it off mediocrely.

Erin's eyes press shut, and the second they open, they search the room. They overlook Ally and Ben almost immediately before finding comfort in resting upon Burgess and Halstead. Kim was so quiet she had almost forgotten she was in the room. Erin's back is to Ally, but it doesn't stop her from hearing the loud, dramatic sobs radiating from the red-head, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Erin's hands press against the side of her head; she's pacing, "I really need to just run away from reality right now."

"I'm so sorry," Ally's face is swarmed with tears. The more she thinks about it, the worse she feels. She steps towards Erin, and in return, Erin takes a step back. She had no intention of forgiving her. Sylvie gave her some advice on forgiveness, but Sylvie had the time to forgive. All Erin had was three weeks; that's not enough time for her.

"You have to believe me!" Ally cries out; she doesn't give up. She's still trying to plead with Erin. And after watching a tear cascade down Erin's cheek, she feels the urge to apologize once more, "I would have stopped him if I knew he was going to do that to you."

"You would have stopped him if you knew he was going to rape me?" Erin's question silences the room –it quiets both her father and Jay discussing Ben- her question demands attention and the second Ally nods, Erin continues, "So, physically assaulting me is okay? Destroying my marriage is fine? Hitting me, choking me, and sitting on me is all okay? It's all justifiable?" Ally doesn't respond; she doesn't show any indication that she will, "Answer the question Ally."

"I'm sor-" Ally's apology is cut off by the pressure of Erin's fist against her face. It was quick. It was painful. It was hard. Erin pulled her fist back and shook her hand to ease her aching knuckles of the slight pain filling them. Ally stared down at her bottom lip; Erin's wedding ring cut it, "I deserved that-" Her words are cut off once more by another punch.

It was like a domino effect. Once one punch came, and then the second, more started to follow. There was a third and then a fourth, and in the blink of an eye, Erin hits the motionless woman an eighth time before Burgess pulls her away. Ally is standing –frozen- she's unblinking, just crying. Voight and Halstead watched the entire time; neither made any indication that they were going to stop the beating.

"Is that justifiable?" Erin shouts as Burgess drags her back, "Is that okay?" Ally doesn't answer. Every time she spoke, she was rewarded with a punch, and while Erin is feet away with a Burgess wall blocking her from pouncing forward, she was still scared.

Ally looks meek; she no longer looks like the confident woman she was the night Erin walked in on her seducing her husband. She stepped back into the corner of Ben's office and felt around her bruising face; it was going to be swollen by the next day. Voight's adrenaline had managed to keep Ben in the air; however, his strength was growing weak. The sergeant sets him back onto his feet and shoves him into a chair, "Why are you grinning?" Ben questioned suspiciously.

With a smile still present on his face, Hank pats Ben's cheek, "I'm only smiling because I've thought of many different ways to kill you and where to hide the body."

"Wait," Ben holds up a hand in surrender, "Let's talk about this…"

"I wasn't involved in any of this!" Erin shoves Burgess to the side in her attempt to approach Ben. Unfortunately Jay steps in the way. It's one thing for her to approach Ally face-to-face, but it was an entirely different thing when it came to Ben.

"I know…"

She wasn't able to see Ben –due to Halstead- but she heard him. She's crying all over again. She wanted to understand, but there was no defense. There was no justifiable explanation as to why he did it. Erin wasn't involved. She had nothing to do with the case. Against Halstead's protection, she stepped around him, "You didn't have to hurt me!" Any hint of a smile on Voight's face is gone; he's worried for his daughter. His eyes are wide as he watches her continue to approach her attacker.

"I know I didn't have to," Ben's good eye peers into hers. Ben is calm; there is no sign as to how he's feeling as he speaks, "I wanted to. Sorry darling, but no regrets."

Her breath hitches, "No regrets?"

"You're sick." Halstead spats as he feels Burgess' hand wrap around his forearm. She's holding him back; she's afraid of what he might do. The look in his eye is dangerous.

It's almost as scary as the look in Voight's eye. _Almost._ Voight is calm. He quietly and gently lifts Ben's weapon, and removes the clip. He's checking to see how many bullets Ben has left.

"Everything happens for a reason," Ben continues to explain; this time he's facing Hank.

"So if I beat the shit out of you it was for a reason?" Voight turns the chair to face him, more so, to get Erin from out of Ben's line of vision. He didn't want that man setting another eye upon her. Ben was his to take care of and he had every intention of doing so. Voight reinserts the clip back into the gun, "You know Ben, I'm actually a very nice person; some say I'm caring, understanding, a few people call me a little funny and I'm very respectful, however, once you piss me off I can become your worst nightmare."

"Well then, I'm thankful that I haven't pissed you off," Ben joked; smirking in retort to Voight's warning. It was a game to him. Ben was obviously out of his mind. I mean, one had to be out of their mind to hurt the daughter of Sergeant Hank Voight. Ben gave the older man a toothy grin, "I always wanted something to be thankful for and now I have it."

"If you need something to be thankful for," Voight lowers the now cold barrel of Ben's gun and presses it against his melted shut eye, "check your pulse and be glad I haven't killed you yet."

"Are you about to kill me sergeant?" Ben shuts his good eye; the pressure applied to his bad one hurts, but he's sucking up the pain in order to continue his torment, "Are you about to commit cold-blooded murder?" He feels the gun lower from his eye.

"Murder isn't murder if the body isn't found." Voight corrects; his itchy trigger finger is brushing against the trigger of the weapon, "It's just a missing person."

Ben reopens his eyes, "…technicalities."

Voight pulls the chair even closer. He's bent low –face-to-face with Ben. He's looking into the man's eyes and while he pretends to be brave, Voight can see the truth. He's scared. He's not ready to die; however, it isn't up to him. Tonight, Hank has the say, and Hank says he's going to die. He approaches the side of Ben, and sets the weapon against the man's temple, "No one's going to be looking for a man like you. I'm doing the world a good service."

Ben chuckles; he's stalling and continually hiding the fear concealed behind his eyes, "What happened in your life that has turned you into an asshole?"

"Life only made me hard. People made me an asshole."

Ben hears the trigger being pulled back, "Wait. Are you really going to kill me?" He figured this was just a scare tactic. There is no way that a man of the law, a sergeant, the one in charge of the Intelligence Unit would risk it all to kill him. This is murder. This isn't legal.

"I'm really going to kill you," Hank's eyes are stone-cold. There's no convincing him otherwise. His mind is already made up, and he won't be leaving the warehouse until he finishes what he came here for. Voight had been ready to do this for three weeks now.

Kim looks around the room. She's waiting for someone to speak up against Voight's plan. When Erin said her father was going to kill Ben, she was right along there with Antonio, she didn't think it was actually true. She thought he may rough him up a bit, but to actually kill him, that was a whole different story. Ally was cowering in the corner, nursing her throbbing face. Halstead surprisingly stood alongside Voight; they're almost shoulder to shoulder, but Jay was technically in front of Ben while Hank was to Ben's side, currently holding a weapon against his head. And last but definitely not least, there was Erin. She wasn't looking. Her eyes were closed as she waited for the inevitable sound of a gunshot. Her shoulders were shaking. She wasn't okay with this either. She didn't want this.

"Sergeant!" Burgess shouts; her voice is assertive as she steps forward. She owes it to Erin to speak up on her behalf. If anyone should have a say about this, it should be Erin. They should ask her what she wants. It's her life that was impacted the most; she has a right to control how this plays out, but instead, she's mentally removed from the situation.

"Burgess, if you can't handle a little justice then get out of here!" The weapon remains against Ben's head, and Voight briefly looks over his shoulder. He sees Burgess' big eyes; she's scared, but he honestly doesn't care. His eyes soon drift to Erin; her eyes are shut tight and his heart aches in pain when he sees it, "And take Erin with you." His daughter doesn't need to be here for this. She's a lawyer, not a cop, not a criminal, not anything that should cause for her to be in this type of situation.

"Erin-" Even though a weapon is currently shoved against his head, Ben still decides to poke at the fuming bear resting within Voight.

"Don't say her name," Halstead warned; his words held an unmentioned threat behind them. Apparently, there was a resting bear within him as well.

Ben's eyes focus in on Jay, "I was just going to let her know that her license is in the top drawer if she wants it back."

Halstead rolls his eyes, "Don't talk to her." He's serious. He's been holding in his anger the entire night; he's waiting for someone to give him a reason to release it.

"Why not?" Ben smiles –top row of teeth connecting to the bottom row of teeth- he winks and Jay immediately knows Ben is about to give him a reason, "She's a grown woman…a fully grown woman. I should know because-"

And that's all it took. In less than a second, Halstead's fists clenched and made immediate sharp impact with Ben's face. One after the other, his fists was flying. Jay's face was fully enraged as he released every bit of emotion in the punch. It was relieving. It was intoxicating. It was addicting. It wasn't him. Erin's eyes open and she's forced to watch her husband pummel the man who ruined her life; the man who felt smug about it; the man who held no regrets. One of the many natural parts of human life, Ben didn't hold; he didn't regret the one thing that he intentionally did to ruin her life. And Jay was aware of that, Jay wanted to beat him until he regretted making that last innuendo.


	14. Plea for Mercy

It's silent in the room; it's quiet in the entire warehouse. The only noise that could be heard is the sound of Jay's fist connecting with Ben's face over and over again. It's like an echo that bounces off each of the bare walls. His knuckles are bruised and blooded –it hurts- but hurting Ben is worth the pain. It's worth the effort –the strength and the power- it's all worth it. Ben's mouth is full of blood; he's dizzy. Drops of blood sprinkle every time contact is made between hand and face. He's starting to see white dots in his blurring vision and he doesn't know how long he can take the beating, "I'm sorry!" Ben feels forced to exclaim. His hands are thrown into the air in defeat. Jay literally beat an apology out of him.

"Let me express," Jay's fist connects to the side of Ben's jaw, "how much I," another hit connects to the side of Ben's face, "don't fucking care," he growls as his fists continue their assault, "on a scale of one to bite me!" With another muster of strength, his fist connects to Ben's bad eye and he emits a scream of pain and agony as a result.

Jay honestly had no intention of stopping. It was like he had no control over his body; he saw red. He wanted to stop; he tried, but he couldn't. Ben deserved every hit. He deserved every ounce of discomfort. The pain he inflicted upon Ben felt justified. It felt warranted. It was the only reason why he couldn't stop punching him. He kept seeing flashes of Ben with his wife; he wasn't there to witness it himself, but his mind imagined how he felt it played out. He saw the worse. He saw the pain in his wife's eyes and that gave him all the energy he needed to continue his assault. He couldn't stop. It felt like the only people in the room were him and Ben.

"Jay!" Erin's voice shouts assertively; she rushes to her husband's side and pulls him away. It wasn't her first time shouting his name, but it was the first time that he heard it.

It's the only thing –she's the only one- who could put a stop to his assault. Voight was going to allow Jay to continue until it was all out of his system. He understood. He would be a hypocrite if he were to make Halstead stop. Voight also felt that Ben didn't deserve anyone stepping in on his behalf, especially Erin. She of all people should have ignored his grunts of pain, his battered and bruised face, and the apology that was most likely bogus. Erin pulls Jay as far away from Ben as the small office would allow. Halstead's head hung low; tears formed within his eyes.

"Erin, I'm sorry," Jay cries out. His face is coated in tears and sweat. He's out of breath.

Her hands cup his face, "Hey, it's alright."

His voice is hoarse; it's broken as he holds back more tears, "How is any of this alright?"

"No," her hands remain cupping his face, "the situation isn't, but you…you're alright. You're going to be alright. It's going to be alright." He feels even worse. She shouldn't be comforting him. He should be the one comforting her, but she's the strong one. She's the one holding her head high and fighting through the tears that desperately want to fall.

Olinsky walks in –Voight had completely forgotten that he didn't arrive alone. His oldest friend did what was ordered upon him. Olinsky isn't surprised by the appearance of Ally and Ben; he's more surprised that the two of them are still alive. He slowly steps further into the office; he's trying to grasp what happened and what's about to happen. He didn't know what was going on, but he had every intention of finding out.

"Jay," Voight interrupts the silence in the room, "I want you and Burgess to take Erin out of the warehouse. I want you both to take her home."

Erin's hands drop from Jay's face as she turns to respond to her father, "No. I know you're going to kill him and I'm asking you not to. I'm done with the violence. I'm tired of it. I can't let this happen. I don't want Ben to die."

"You're showing mercy to this guy?" Voight is confused; actually everyone –besides Burgess- is confused. Erin, of all people, was showing Benjamin Lee mercy after everything he did to her; the attack, the anguish, the torment, all of what he did justified his death in Voight's mind.

Erin looks around the room; she's searching for understanding eyes. Eyes that understood what she meant. She needed eyes that would focus on her and what she wanted. Erin needed to find eyes that wouldn't question why she's trying to stop her dad from killing her attacker. She finds them. She finds them in Burgess because she wants the exact same thing.

"I want all of this to be put behind me," Erin whispers –her eyes trained on Kim- she steps towards her friend the moment she nods to indicate that she's listening; truly, wholeheartedly listening, "I want all of this to be over." She's forced to face her father; her next words are meant for his ears, "Please don't kill him. I don't want someone dying in my name."

Voight shakes his head, "I know what's best for you Erin. Burgess and Halstead are going to take you out of here while I take care of this," his foot kicks at Ben's dangling feet.

"It's not up to you!" Erin asserts, she takes immediate quick steps towards her dad, "Please, I'm begging you." She grabs his hand, and her eyes plead with him. She's serious. She wants him to see just how firm she really is about this; her eyes fall towards Olinsky. She needs his support too. With both her and Olinsky, he'll have to agree.

His free hand runs through her brunette hair, "I'm doing this for you."

"I don't want you to though." She sighs; her eyes close as her face rests within his opened palm; it's comforting, "I want the justice system to take care of him…not you."

"I can't let that happen." At his admission, her eyes reopen. There's a different look within them. Her eyes hold a strong passion for what she's speaking. It matches his; his own eyes hold that same passion. They're both firm behind their belief and action; neither plans to back down.

His hand remains against her face as she responds, "You always take the law into your own hands! It doesn't work like that." His thumb brushes along her cheek; his hand remains comforting against her flesh, "You aren't judge, jury and executioner! You're a cop!"

Voight's hand drops from her face. His eyes scan the room; Ally remains crying in the corner, Burgess and Halstead are behind Erin, they're contemplating what to do as they see her emotions slowly bubbling up to the forefront, and Olinsky is slowly making his way towards Ben. Voight watches his eyes widen as he takes in the damage done to Ben's face.

His voice is surprisingly calm, "You're speaking out of emotion." He can't find it in himself to raise his voice at her no matter how upset he is. No amount of anger resting within him could cause for him to take it out on her. If anything, she was his rock; she was the person who could always calm him down in the worst situations imaginable; usually.

She retorts, "You're acting out of emotion!"

"Halstead, please get her as far away from this place as possible." Voight ignores her reply as he simply looks over her shoulder and meets the eyes of his son-in-law.

"No!" Erin feels Jay's hand rest against her lower back and she immediately pushes it away, "I'm not going anywhere because you're not going to kill him." Her finger is piercingly pointed in her dad's direction accusingly.

"Erin-"

Her arms cross above her chest, "Why doesn't anyone ever listen to me?" Her foot taps methodically as she actually waits for an answer, "I really want to know. No one listens to me like always and I want to know why?! I just want to be heard."

"And I'm hearing you…"

"…but you're NOT listening to me!"

"Erin-"

"No dad, I'm serious. You're not killing him."

If anyone in this room knows Voight besides Olinsky, it's her. She knows her dad. She knows what he's willing to do. There's no bluff to be called because he's actually willing to go through with it. With her arms remaining crossed, she watches as his hand sets itself upon her forearm; it's his attempt to calm her bubbling rage.

"You'll eventually see it's the right thing to do." He pats her arm while a reassuring smile tugs at his lips. He understood her anger; she got it from him.

"Dad, you are not killing someone in my name. You're not killing someone because of me!" She swats his hand off her arm, "I can't live with that. I already have to live with what he did to me," She's losing the battle of withholding her tears; they're coming, "please don't make me have to live with what you do to him." They're now falling; drops of tears stroll slowly down her face.

"When I take care of him, you'll feel a sense of relief in knowing that he can't hurt you or anyone else anymore." Voight cups her face; it's what he used to do when she was a little girl.

"Daddy, let me explain this to you the best way I know how." The tears continue to fall and as his hands remain cupping her face, he uses his thumbs to wipe them away, "You're not killing him," She asserts; her eyes are unblinking and focused on his, "You're not killing him dad because if you kill him, you kill the rest of me too."

"Erin-"

"I only have so much I can go through at a time." She interrupts him before he has another chance to explain to her why he must go through with it; she honestly didn't want to hear it, "I'm already going through what he did. The burden he placed on me is a lot to live with; don't make me live with your burdens too."

"You won't have to answer for this. This won't be your burden to bear."

"Just because you say that doesn't make it any less my burden. You wouldn't be threatening to kill him if it wasn't for what he did to me."

"Exactly, I'm doing this because of what he did to you. He doesn't feel guilty Erin." Voight's hands drop from her face. He feels himself getting angry, but he must remind himself who to direct the anger towards, "That half-ass apology is a joke. He doesn't care-"

"But I do!" She shouts; everyone's attention is focused in on the conversation, even Ally's. No one dares to speak or chime in; this is a conversation between father and daughter.

"You care about him?"

"No, I care about you. You're throwing your life away."

"For you…"

"That's another burden to bear!" Erin pinches the bridge of her nose; sometimes talking to her dad felt like she was talking to a wall; no matter what, she couldn't get through to him, "I can't handle that. I can't physically, mentally and emotionally go through that. You want me to hold the burden of my attack, his death and you going to prison all at once. Dad, listen to me," She attempts to reason with him once more. Her hands grab his and she holds them tight, "I can't handle that, and no amount of therapy, support groups or pain pills will help me." Her eyes focus in on his; it's like she's staring into her own –the resemblance is uncanny- he's her dad, and they're more alike than she cares to admit, "Jay, Kim, Olinsky and mom won't be able to help me. No one will, and I'm afraid of what may happen if it comes to that. I'm afraid of where I'll end up," she's putting her heart out on the line; she's opening herself up and showing all of her vulnerabilities and honest emotions, "I'm afraid of what I might do to myself if I can't get over all of the burdens you're about to place on me. Right now, I'm just focusing on my attack. I know with time and focus I'll eventually get over that. I can actually see a light at the end of the tunnel, but if you do this, there won't be any time for me to focus on just my attack; I'll be focused on you, on what you did, on why you did it, and on the repercussions for it. I won't be able to work on myself and if that happens, and my emotions fester, I'm really scared of what will come of it."

Voight's arms swallow her whole; it's a sight that Ben and Ally are surprised to see. A man who tortured the truth out of his daughter's attacker was showing a caring and nurturing side. Erin silently cried in his arms, and she relaxed momentarily the second he kissed her forehead, "I love you kid and I'm doing this because I love you." He's still going to go through with it.

She yanks herself out of his arms, "He didn't understand the word no, and neither do you."

"That's not fair," he defends himself. He couldn't bear having the slightest comparison to Ben.

"No, what isn't fair, is what you're about to make me live through. That's not fair!"

"You'll eventually come around Erin." Hank speaks positively; it's like he can see the future and he knows firsthand that it's true, unfortunately, he couldn't see the future and he didn't know; he could only hope, "Now just let Halstead and Burgess take you home, be with your mom; you don't need to see this and when the police arrive, you don't need to be held accountable for my actions." He looks over her shoulder to meet Jay's eyes, "Take her home."

Halstead extends his hand towards her, "Come on babe-"

"No!" She steps away from him and turns back to Voight, "Dad-"

"There's no changing my mind kid." Voight walks around his daughter and approaches Ben; he's standing in front of the seated criminal, "He signed his death certificate the moment he chose to hurt you." Voight pats Ben's shoulder casually, "Isn't that right Ben?"

Olinsky remains quiet; he would be considered a hypocrite if he spoke up. If Erin were his daughter, he honestly would be doing the same thing as Voight. The reason why he and Voight were so alike was because of situations like this; instead of trying to impede, they helped one another. They had each other's backs. If Voight went down, Olinsky was going down with him.

"Dad-"

Voight points towards the door, "Leave Erin."

"The second you kill him is the same second that you kill us. If you do this, if you kill him, I'm no longer your daughter. I won't visit you in prison. I won't stand by your side during trial. I won't talk to you, look at you, I won't be associated with you at all because if I do, I'll always remember what you did. I'll cut you out of my life for good –for me- because I don't deserve this. If you do this, you'll be a murderer. You'll be just as bad as he is. And I'll never look at you the same. Mom won't either. You can't kill him because if you do then you'll kill me too."

Silence falls over the room after her monologue. There was an ultimatum within it; either revenge or actual justice, in simpler terms, either Ben or her. It wasn't hard. It should have been a quick decision, however, the longer the silence ensued; the more worried she grew. Voight didn't like being caught between a rock and a hard place, but if he wanted to prove to her just how much he loves her –like he so confidently admits- then he'll make the right decision. She has faith in that- in him.

"Burgess, Halstead," after a long bout of silence, he finally speaks up, "I'm not going to ask you again," his eyes, they avert from them to his daughter, "Get her out of here." He withdraws Ben's weapon and rests it upon the assaulter's forehead.

Erin points towards herself; she's in shock, "You would rather lose me than not kill this guy?" He doesn't look at her; he simply looks over her shoulder at Halstead. His eyes are silently demanding him to take her out of the room, and Jay obliges.

Erin read it too, and once Halstead stepped towards her, she stepped back. His arms reached out and gently pulled at her hips, "No! No," she tries to swat Jay's hands away from her, "No! Stop," she feels herself being lifted and flung over his shoulder, "Put me down!" Her fists beat against his back as she wildly squirms in his arms, "Please put me down! No!" Burgess leads the way as Halstead follows closely behind her.

"Kid, I'm sorry." Voight whispers at their retreating forms.

She heard him; she just chooses to say nothing in reply. All she could muster up was a teardrop that soon rolled down her cheek. As she was carried down the hallway, she watched the office get further and further away, and the sight of her father was cut off by Olinsky closing the door. The flow of tears soon dramatically start to increase. She knows what's about to happen. She has to live with it. She has to live with Ben's death and the fact that her dad chose vengeance over her. She feels the chilled outside air and it snaps her back into reality. It's dark. She's outside. It's cold. She's still dangling over Jay's shoulder.

"Put me down," Erin orders; seconds after she feels her feet being set upon the asphalt, "Ben's going to die and my dad is going to prison."

"It's not your fault," Burgess approached her friend.

Erin took a step back, "Yes it is." She turns to face the warehouse, "I could have stopped him!" She immediately turns to face Kim and Jay, "Why didn't you let me stop him?"

"You and I both know there's no changing Voight's mind once it's made up," Kim attempted to explain, but the rapid shaking of Erin's head made her stop talking. It would be a waste of breath to continue if Erin had no plans of listening.

Jay extended his hand, "We should get out of here."

"No!" She instinctively steps away from him; her hands are pulled back, remaining at a distance that he can't touch, "You should have let me! You should have let me stop him!"

"You don't need to be here when the police come."

"Why would you just let him kill someone? Why didn't you help me try to stop him?"

"Erin-"

"I'm positive I could have stopped him! I know my dad; he would have eventually listened to me the more I tried! You should have given me a chance!" She's crying out loud; her eyes are red and her cheeks are drenched with salty tears, "He's my dad, but he's your family too. I know I could have stopped him if given an actual chance!"

"Erin-"

She steps towards the warehouse, "No! No! Don't!" She's staring at the far distance between herself and the entrance door, "I could have done something!" Her feet remain implanted in the ground. She knows both Jay and Kim could outrun her, especially since outrunning criminals was a part of their daily lives. She knows running back inside would get her nowhere. She wouldn't make it to her dad in time, "You should have let me try harder!" Erin's knees fall weak; she knows that in any second, she'll hear the shot, "Why didn't you give me a chance to try?! I could have stopped him! I know I could have; I just needed some time! I just-" a gunshot rings out. The sound is clear, and it creates a rippling echo in the dark night. It silences her; cuts her off and makes her forget whatever she's about to say.

Erin feels every ounce of strength and energy drain from her body. It's over. Her knees give out and fall hard upon the asphalt. The physical pain is ignored. The emotional pain was too strong to focus on any bodily ache. Her hands fall to the ground next; she's staring down at the dark asphalt, hoping that if she doesn't look up, she'll be someplace different; someplace new. She woke up this morning with the hope of attending a support group and slowly transitioning into a new her. She would have stayed in bed if she'd had known this would be how her day ended.

Her shoulders shake hard; she knows sirens will soon begin to follow the gunshot. It's only a matter of time. Her vision is obscured by the tears welled within them, but there's nothing to see. There's no reason for her to clear her vision since all she's staring down at is her hands pressed against the asphalt. Jay and Kim want to approach her, but they both know, she'll just push them away. She needs her space. She needs to be by herself. If it's one thing she learned, it's that sometimes loneliness and solitude is all one really needs. She needs that right now.

A loud cry erupts from her mouth; she had been holding it in. She feels broken. She feels like she lost Ben even though he was no one to her. He was nothing but scum. It was a weird feeling. She didn't cry for him; she didn't cry over his death, she cried over the death of her relationship with her dad. Erin's nails dig in and slides against the concrete; she ignores the burning sensation as she tries to claw into the ground. Her tears no longer roll down her face; they simply just drop to the ground. One drop after the other falls slowly and embeds itself into the cement. They continue to pour and splash onto the ground until it longer touches the ground. It falls onto a pair of shoes –connecting to feet- standing in front of her. Through her blurry vision, she's forced to look up and squint to make out the face of the man standing before her; it's her dad.

The gun drops beside his feet –it's empty, and seconds afterwards he drops to his knees in front of her. His arms surround her and pull her into a much needed hug. He didn't ask for it because he didn't know whether or not she would agree; Voight didn't want to take the chance. His muscled arms held her tightly, and if he squeezed any harder, she may in fact break. He holds her –rocks her gently- her face is buried into the crook of his neck and her sobs are being muffled by the material of his leather jacket. Her arms are weak; she isn't returning the hug. She's mad at him; she's pissed off and she really wants to hit and scream at him, but she can't. She can't bring herself to do it because she knows that she'll spend the rest of her life hating herself; she'll hate herself because she'll hate him. She wouldn't be able to control her emotions.

Erin refuses to hug her father; her arms remain limp at her sides. His arms however, squeeze her tighter. He doesn't want to let go; he refuses to loosen his hold. Voight presses a kiss to the side of her head as her tears drizzle down the back of his leather jacket. She feels defeated; she feels like everything she said to him was for nothing. Her hysterical cry is the only sound heard in the quiet night. It blares solo and it tugs at the heart strings of everyone within earshot.

"Erin-" Voight finally finds his voice and whispers in her ear.

She shakes her head; he feels it move within the crook of his neck. She doesn't want him to talk. She knows if he talks, she'll get angrier; he chose vengeance over her, and to her that's unforgiveable. She wants to embrace this moment because she knows in the future it'll be no more. Erin plans to follow through on her word, on her ultimatum; she wasn't bluffing.

Voight feels his daughter attempt to pull out of the hug; however, he wouldn't release her. His eyes are closed and he's holding onto her for dear life; he feels the moment he lets go will be the moment she's gone for good. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to tell her what happened after she left. However, the moment the warehouse door opens revealing Olinsky pushing out a handcuffed Ben and Ally; he can't seem to find the words. There are no words to say. With her head remaining on his shoulder –she sees it- she watches Olinsky lead them both to his car and all she can think to do is lift her arms and finish off the hug. They surround her father and the two hug each other even tighter. She's breaking down harder, but this time, it's a cry of relief; it's a cry of happiness. He didn't kill him; no matter how much he wanted to, he didn't go through with it. He didn't do the thing he wanted to do the most out of fear of losing her. She was enough. She meant that much to him. He didn't need vengeance; he didn't need retribution, he just needed her.

Hank's hand rubs down the back of her head, "I love you kid." His muscled arms squeeze her even tighter, if it's possible, "and don't you ever forget it."

After today, she could positively say that she wouldn't


	15. Safe Haven

**Six Months Later**

The passage of time, the support of one's family, the therapeutic release of emotions, the comfort of friends, the understanding within support groups, and the ability to lose one's self in work all played a part in the Erin of today; the Erin six months after her attack. No, she wasn't perfect. No, she wasn't 'healed.' No, she definitely wasn't her old self, but she was turning into a new person; someone she could be proud of, she was becoming a person that was able to walk through the fire of life and come out on top. If she was able to survive and overcome her attack, then she'll be able to do any and everything. Each part –time, family, therapy, friends, support groups and work- were all her safe havens; they were all her personal escapes.

Safe havens are a place of refuge; they offer safety and security whether it's from a physical force or a mental and emotional bearing. To put it simply, it's a place where one goes to feel safe. Some people are unfortunate to not have one. Others are fortunate to have at least one, while few are lucky enough to have several. Erin's is one of the lucky few. To be able to escape from the harshness of reality -one's times of trouble- and feel secured and protected in a personally defined safe haven is a well-defined term of endearment; it's a term transformed from geography where a ship searches for a safe haven during an approaching storm to being used on a personal basis for one's own life. It's merely where one goes to escape danger; it's the place or person you run to when no threat is present. It's your happy place.

Support groups are a part of Erin's happy place. It's the reason why she hasn't missed a meeting since her attack. She finds herself sitting in the same seat, between the same people, but with a different attitude. Her shoulders are no longer tense; they're more relaxed. Her lips are no longer frowned; they're upright in a soft smile. Her brows no longer remain creased; they're unbothered. She's approachable. She's talkative. She doesn't hold anything back because she now realizes there's no point to it. Everyone present understands. They're nonjudgmental, open-minded and most importantly, they're listeners.

After fixing her a small plate of snacks, Erin retakes her usual seat. They're unassigned assigned seats. Erin notices how as time passes some of the usual attendees trickle out. It's like Sylvie once said; when she got her life back, she stopped going to meetings; the same must have happened with them. All Erin could do was wish them the best. They promised to keep in touch, but Erin knows they won't. It isn't sad or pessimistic thinking; it's reality. Why keep in touch with the people who will remind you of your past? Of the one thing you wish to forget? Most of them had nothing in common, but their attack. It's not a good basis to build a friendship upon. It's not something one would run at the chance to bond with someone over; it's nothing personal, but Erin knows if and when the time comes for her to leave the meetings for good, she won't make untrue promises and false assurances about keeping in touch and hanging out. When you leave a meeting, you leave a meeting. There's no reason to be tied to anyone anymore.

Erin grabs at one of the carrots on her saucer –she dips it in dressing- and crunches her teeth into the orange vegetable. Susan rose to her feet and approached the center of the semi-circle. Every meeting starts with Susan opening up the floor for discussion or personal stories from any member in the room. However, the start of today was different. It started the exact same way it started for Erin during her first meeting. Susan is smiling brightly at a man who looks to be around Erin's age, "Good afternoon everyone," her light voice claims possession of the quiet auditorium, "We have a new survivor joining us today." She nods her head in the man's direction, "How about you introduce yourself?"

"Hi. I'm Freddie," he shyly waves; Erin recognizes what he's feeling before he even starts.

In unison, they greet in return, "Hi Freddie."

"What am I even supposed to talk about?" Freddie blushes bashfully; his fingers are tapping anxiously against his legs, "It wasn't my idea to attend this type of thing. My sister thought it would be good for me, but…I don't know."

Erin finds herself listening intently to everything Freddie has to say. It isn't much, but it's everything. It's his first meeting and she understands why he's hesitant to even approach the subject of his attack. She was the exact same way; they all were. It's why they didn't rush her because at some point in time, they were new people; they were all attending their first meeting at one point. It's why they decided to attend a meeting in the first place; they wanted someone to understand, not silently pity and judge them.

"I'm 30," Freddie casually scratches the back of his head; his eyes scan around the room for something to focus on. He's never been good at public speaking regardless of the audience. He finds comfort when his eyes meet Erin's, "I'm an accountant, boring, I know." He cracks a smile, and Erin immediately realizes that humor is his coping mechanism.

She picks up on every sign of disturbed body language. He doesn't find his jokes funny, but it's the only way he knows how to talk to everyone. She doesn't judge. She simply does what she would want someone to do for her; she smiles and lightly laughs. In the last six months, she has come a long way, and while although she knows she has a long road ahead of her, she finds comfort in knowing that she's getting there; she's on her way to being better. She doesn't know when she'll reach her destination, but she finds comfort in knowing that she'll get there in time. There's absolutely no rush. Her dad was cleared of all charges concerning his attack on Ben. Charges were never pressed against her regarding her assault on Ally; apparently the woman felt too bad to press charges against Erin. Ben, on the other hand, wanted to press charges against her father for the permanent damage done to his face, however, no prosecutor wanted to convict her dad because it was Ben's word against everyone else, including Ally. She backed up Voight's story out of guilt. Erin didn't care why she did it, she was just glad her dad wouldn't get fired or spend any time in jail. If Ally did it to earn forgiveness from her or Jay, she had another thing coming. Jay refused to see or speak with Ally the second she was in police custody. Ally didn't even try to come to Erin with another apology out of fear of a continuance to her first beating. Ben's trial is approaching, and with the evidence from her rape kit and her and Ally's testimony, the prosecution are positive they'll earn a conviction. Ally agreed to a plea deal for her part in the attack.

"This is really awkward," a grin cracks upon his face and the dimples piercing his cheeks match Erin's own, "I have a sister. It's actually only us." His lips come together and twist in thought, "I don't know what to say. What am I even supposed to say?"

"You can tell us whatever you're comfortable with," Erin finds herself speaking up; it's the first time she was able to comfort someone else. For six long months, she had been the new girl. She had been the recent survivor. She had never had the opportunity to comfort anyone because everyone in the meeting progression was farther than hers. Now, she got to help. She got to do something good. She got to be the person she needed in the beginning.

Freddie continues to talk; he's lighthearted and casual and it causes Erin's heart to sink dramatically. Who would hurt this guy? He seemed like a sweetheart. Who would hurt any of the people currently sitting in the semi-circle? They were all great and positive members to society and someone so vicious and cruel woke up one morning and decided to change that. Unfortunately for them, they failed. Their presence in the room with her let her know that their attackers failed. Instead of making them victims; they became survivors.

Erin felt Tanya's hand rest against her leg; it was comforting. Every time Erin was with the woman, she couldn't help but think of her own mom. She was strong. She was a survivor. A few weeks ago, she had been diagnosed with cancer, and while it shook Erin's world and beat and ripped at the core of her entire existence and outlook on life, her mother had no desire to give up. Her mother was a fighter just like the rest of them. Everyone's a fighter, just of different battles. Everyone's a survivor, just of different trials and tribulations. Camille would get through this. She had every reason to believe that if she could overcome her attack then her mother could fight this. Cancer's a bitch, and bitches never win.

"My sister was diagnosed with cancer a few months ago," Freddie mentioned; Erin found herself having more in common with him than she realized. It was the first time she ever had something in common with someone in the group besides the attack. His eyes remained focused on hers for comfort, "It was a hard pill to swallow. It felt like a kick in the gut, you know?" Erin finds herself nodding. She did know. She felt the same way. She felt everything in the world was set up and formed against her. Freddie runs his hand through his blonde hair, "I'm only here because of her. She says that if she's fighting through cancer then I have to fight through this." His hand drops to his lap, "I kind of pushed her away in the beginning. She would pester and irritate me."

"If you don't mind me asking," Erin leans forward, her elbows pressing down into her thighs, "at what moment did you realize you wanted to sign up?" He knew what she was referring to; the support groups. She wanted to know with all the nagging his sister had to do, when was the time he truly accepted the fact that he needs help and he should accept it?

Tears sparked his eyes –Erin felt bad- he bit against his bottom lip and shrugged, "I yelled at her. I said some pretty mean things. I said some things that I shouldn't have said."

"I'm pretty sure she doesn't hold them against you," Jen says; she was one of the original members who helped Erin out in the beginning.

Ronald nodded to back her up, "Yeah, after my attack, I gave my kids the silent treatment for weeks. They didn't know what was wrong." Erin heard the story; he's referring to his grown kids who were a few years younger than Erin.

"You're going to need a punching bag," Sylvie spoke up; since her lunch with Erin, she had kept her word and regularly started attending meetings. The only time she couldn't make one was if it conflicted with her shift at work. Sylvie's voice is soft; her voice was made to comfort, "We all needed a punching bag. We needed someone to take our anger and pain out on. Most of us couldn't take it out on our attackers, so we chose the next person; we chose the person who we're around all the time. We chose the person who was there; the person who was available."

Erin bites the inside of her cheek, and releases it seconds afterwards, "They're easy targets," she tells him what she's been told during her first meeting, "She understands. I'm pretty sure she doesn't hold it against you. She wants you to be okay. She cares; that's why she kept nagging you to get help. She wants you to get better. She wants you to get stronger."

As discussion spread around the room, and the floors were open for others to speak, Erin listened in. She applauded at the right moments, laughed at the others and gave advice when needed. By the end of the meeting, Erin had received a text from Jay; he was outside, waiting for her. He was her ride. Erin drank the remainder of her bottled water, before tossing it into the garbage.

"Erin," Freddie jogged over; he approaches her.

"Hey Freddie."

"Hi," he's out of breath and nervous; a horrible combination, "before me, you were the new person," she nods to agree, and he continues, "How long?" Without having to finish his question, she caught on to what he was trying to ask. He wanted to know how long ago her attack was.

"…six months," her voice sounds hoarse; it takes on a different tone than the meetings.

"You look so…so," he's searching for the right word, and soon enough, he finds it, "together."

Erin remembers thinking the same of everyone else in the room. The truth is, she isn't. She still has to take it one day at a time. She didn't know how each day would play out. Some days she would wake up carefree with no thoughts about her attack and on other days she would wake up with tears in her eyes or from a nightmare; and the entire day would be spent paranoid or latching onto Jay, needing his comfort a little more one day than the other.

"It's amazing what you can hide behind a smile, isn't it?" She gives him a smile to prove it. Today was one of her good days.

He understands and smiles in return, "It is."

"Will you be at the next meeting?" Erin finds herself continuing the conversation; they're walking out of the building shoulder to shoulder.

He sniffs –trying to mask the nervousness on his face- he swallows a large lump in his throat and replies, "It depends. Will you be here?"

Erin chuckles, "My presence should not dictate whether or not you attend. You should come because you want to come."

"I know," the two are outside, and he's blocking the blinding sunlight from his eyes, "It's just…I don't know, you have a comforting look to you. It's hard for me to speak up, you know?" She nods; she picked up on that during the meeting, "I'm not a talkative person and you're just, I don't know, you're easy to talk to. You listen to me. You respond."

"We all do," she reminds, her hand gently swinging in the direction of the retreating figures of everyone in the group. They're all walking to their cars.

"I know that. It's just, before me, you were the new person. You were the person experiencing what I went through. You still remember those feelings. I can see them on your face. It's a little obvious. Erin," he sees an unfamiliar man up ahead; his eyes are focused on Erin and he isn't rushing her. He's leaning against the car with his hands tucked in his front pockets, waiting patiently, "your attack was publicized. Everyone in the city, the state, knows your story…well, everyone who stays current on the news, and a part of the reason why I chose this specific support group over the other sexual assault support groups was because you were familiar. Even though we haven't met before, I kind of felt like I knew you. I connected with you and your story before I even had the chance to hear it straight from you. It's why I stared at you during the meeting when I was talking. It didn't feel like I was talking to a stranger. So, I just wanted to know if you would-"

Her hand fell upon his shoulder, "I definitely plan to be there," She gives him a smile, "I'm just getting my life back, I have no intentions of missing a meeting any time soon."

Freddie smiles; it's encouraging to her. Her presence alone helped him. It helped him talk. It helped him reach out for help. She didn't know him, but she managed to help him out. With a small smile on his face, he backs away from her. His head nods as he turns to head towards his car. She's left standing on the side walk –a big smile on her face- it's contagious. Jay walks over to her with a smile just as big.

"Not that I'm complaining," he approaches her, and it's understood that they're about to go for a walk; it's become their usual after support meetings, "but what's got you so happy?" The young couple is walking shoulder to shoulder along the sidewalk; they're heading in the direction of the docks.

"I want to run something by you," Erin takes a hold of his hand; the brisk Chicago wind blows through their hair as they smell the breeze of the water, "I want you to be honest with me."

"Yes ma'am," the two walk along the docks; they're both ignoring the sight of small boats setting sail. It's a nice day, but they both had something better to look at.

She turns to face him; the wind blowing her hair in one direction, "I want to quit my job."

"You do? I thought you loved working at the public defender's office," he held a serious expression that quickly broke out into a smile the second he saw her face; "I'm just kidding. That's not surprising actually. I was waiting for the day that you were going to come to your senses and quit working at that place. You're too good for them."

"You're just saying that because you're my husband."

"No, I'm saying that because it's the truth."

Her hands intertwine with his as they stand face to face, "It's not what I thought it was going to be," the conversation falls heavy. It takes on a different mood.

"Where would you work?"

"I could maybe apply to the prosecutor's office," she thinks aloud; it's definitely the number one option on her list, "or I could apply to the police academy and become a kickass officer?" She laughs at the last option. She definitely had enough of that type of excitement to last her a lifetime. She wasn't ready to mix herself into the world of police and criminals. If she did, she wanted to do it from inside of a courtroom.

Jay slides his left hand out of hers and raises it, "My vote is for the prosecutor's office. That way I can catch them and you can send them to prison. We'll be a badass, untouchable power-couple."

"I want to do something part-time too," She finds herself adding in; she's not ready to joke about it until it's all out in the open. She takes a hold of his left hand; she's now holding both again, "It's unpaid. It's once a week. It'll definitely be a challenge, but it'll be worth it."

"What do you want to do?"

"I want to do what Susan does," She turns away from him and faces the open water. It's a beautiful sight, and seconds following her admittance, she feels his arms circle her from behind. They wrap around her waist and his head settles against her shoulder, "I want to facilitate a support group. I want to speak at criminal justice reform conferences. I want to advocate for sexual assault victims. I want to be the person that I needed after I was first attacked. I want to be that person for someone else."

"Okay," his head remains on her shoulder, and he turns it slightly to press a kiss against her cheek, "What's stopping you?"

She sighs in relief, "You really think I can do it?"

"I think you can do anything."

"If I get too busy, you won't hold it against me?" Her hands cover his arms that are currently wrapped around her waist, "If I don't always have the time, you won't be mad? If I do this, and it sometimes causes old emotions to come back and I push you away, you won't stop loving me?"

Jay pulls back, "Hey," his strong arms turn his wife to face him, and with a quick flick he knocks the one loose tear off her cheek, "Let's make a deal."

"Okay," she's nervous to hear it, but she's ready.

"I just knocked that tear of yours in the water," he points to the river behind her, "I'll stop loving you, when you find it." A grin breaks itself out upon her face as she presses a quick kiss against his lips, "Do we have ourselves a deal?" He asks through the kiss.

"Yes," and to seal the deal, she kisses him again.

A safe haven, and one's happy place isn't just a location. It can be a person too.

 **The end.**


End file.
